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Feathers


by Darryl Price


The hoards aren't only coming, they 
are here. I don't care. And that doesn't 

mean I don't care. The world is 
happening in a myriad 

of ways all the time. That doesn't 
mean there aren't colors you can't see. 

But I'm still going to the park 
today. It's free and the trees are 

good company. Lately it's always 
supposed to rain, but sometimes 

it's sunny. Something went wrong with 
my thinking I think. It does that. 

Now I'm sitting down. Things just happen 
all by themselves. A hawk came 

down in front of me the other 
day and stood there looking at me. 

I said, nice to meet you, thanks for 
the visit, and he flew away. 

I waved, but I don't know why. It's 
meaningless, but it's true. That's what 

I'm wrestling with I guess. It's not
a burning sky, but it still falls

around in pieces. Don't know
how this is about you, but it is. 


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