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Many Blue Fields


by Darryl Price


The wind can be such a 
bother. It always wants
something it can't have, or 
you're not willing to give. 
It really blows my fur 
up around my neck sometimes. 
At least in the Spring, 
it has something else to 
distract its maniacal 
need for someone else's 

precious time. But here 
we are. You can see, right 
there, that some green lump is 
quietly but deliberately 
pushing up 
into the crisp new air, 
trying so hard to breathe 
deeply again. It's a 
lovely sign of many 
good things already to 

come our way soon. Birdsongs 
will no longer be lonely, 
scratchy records playing 
in the cold night rooms 
of certain trees, but loud
speakers blasting through many 
blue fields of endless 
possibility I 
like to call sky. But for 
right now, as you can see, 

the wind wants my scarf. And 
for what, I haven't the 
slightest idea. One, 
two, three, four, five, six, seven.
There. Take a deep breath. 
That's so much better. Now,
if you'll excuse me, I
must be on my way. Don't
want to be caught in the 
coming rain with this wind.
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