"HUNTED!"

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    "HUNTED!"



    "HUNTED!"


    Sweltering, steam rising
    Tendrils of hair damp against her brow
    As she feels the salty sting in her eyes
    With a gasp and a sleeve
    She wipes sweat, running like tears
    And continues, splashing on…

    Screams and shouts resound
    She winces from the pain to her ears
    A cacophony of voices in argument
    Follows her, harkens to the Tower of Babel
    She ignores the growing crescendo
    And presses on…

    Pounding footsteps behind her
    Coming from one direction; no, more!
    From everywhere at once, she’s surrounded
    Turning, she throws up her hands in defeat
    And speaking, she implores;
    “Can’t you kids, just once, let me do laundry in peace??”

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    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

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