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african american poetry

i heard the wind all day
i love my life, but not too well
do the boys and girls still go
when the hours of day are numbered
among the mountains i wandered
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
i love my hour of wind and light
in the sphere
pushing out, struggling vainly
skies they were ashen and sober
when night drifts along the streets of the city
and with the humming bird

 



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