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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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