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Poems

This is May

30 April 2015

1:00 PM

30 April 2015

1:00 PM

The soot sunk clouds have gone —
to blacken someone else’s landscape.
The tugging, ripping, girl-fight wind
that stole the weekend’s peace


has been abracadabra’d away
as though life’s difficult days
never even happened.
Sometimes the stirred world stills.



The trees refitted and re-greened
appear overslept and drowsy.

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