Non-Erotic PoetryUrban PastoralIt is a long street,
devoid of trees but shadowed
by porch, eve, and dormer.
Cloned abodes, planted exactingly.
A forest,
leading away in such symmetery,
like a pointing finger
to yon distant towers,
where sprawl meets tall.
How pleasant,
under shade of old growth,
beside the roads stream
draining in ever rushing torrents
to the maelstrom surrounding those far spires
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