dandelion spores filled the air,
I walked down Myrtle Street, right onto Quail,
then to Providence.
Albany, a small town, young, old, lean and mean,
all nodded "good day." and Was a good day -
myrtle wavering, quail cooing, Providence hovering,
time had come to close a chapter.
I'd shepherded him best I could.
Time to inhale myrtle, atune to quails, thank Providence,
once more for all my bountiful blessings.
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