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LEAVES


by Tim Young



 

 

In Central Park

I saw black birds

Fall from trees

Like leaves

Large and

Flying

Trying to

Put on the brakes

Walking on

The earth

Like insects

Crawling on

Enchanted wings

Not singing

But sending

The collective

Birdbrain

To all

Brothers and sisters

Splashing like a storm

Shiny feathers

Well worn

Exactly in place

All the same

Face

Until a curse

In the wind

And they all move

Again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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