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fall poetry

in their ragged regimentals
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
with joy and wonder
pushing out, struggling vainly
it was a tall young oysterman
who is the runner in the skies
there was a time in former years
in your arms was still delight
the light withdrawn
do you hear the rain?
see the tentative
still thirteen years
i stood
my son is dead and i am going blind

 



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