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As The Wind
As the wind
tears the leaves from the tree limbs
standing thin
like the arms
of the eldest in
the nursing home,
as the day passes
into night
before the mail truck
drives in,
as we notice
our breath hanging
in clouds
before us,
it reaches in;
to touch us,
to take hold,
to enfold us,
stealing us from
our finite homes,
the darkness.
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