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fieldspun thoughts
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Pattern on the glass
Frost on the storm windows this morning, beautiful feathers, like those of an angel perhaps, or of a bower bird.
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Here by the river, protected from street noises
Pattern on the glass
par avion
the way to a girl's core
Once upon a time
now the oaks are white
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To the things themselves
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Belle
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