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poetry poem

when i returned at sunset
they in the darkness gather and ask
as evening falls
why then, must we see?
a flying word from here and there
who loves the rain
lo! 'tis a gala night
what shall we do now
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
in and of itself
i heard the wind all day
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
the rain was over, and the brilliant air

 



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