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Gusts
bend the trees tonight
at each new onslaught
to endure
or not...
Dark now
by six
& my children
in distant cities
with lives of their own...
What to make
of the neighbour's cat
crouched under my feeder
or of the neighbour
shrugging "It's nature"?
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Like a guernsey
in her summer cloud
of flies
I flick an ear
a tail at him sometimes
A water strider...
in this old canoe I glide
on a summer pond
among the reeds
afloat on clouds
In the cold shade
of office towers
a bus-stop stranger
with the eyes
of a man who knows
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