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November 1988


outside the storm winds blow

trees are picking up their skirts

and dancing in the winds

while leaves leap out

from underfoot


behind these windows

I look and see

glad that they are there

for I hate the wind

in its careless force


these trees that dance

joyfully in this wind

have no fear of messed up hair

this wind that could be their doom

is their cause to dance


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Each New Day A Miracle
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