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My trees sway in the breezes from the shore. My house ruffles its feathers as sand dusts the sides. My flowers arc to the ground.
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There once was a girl who was lost in a storm. She wandered this way and that, this way and that, trying to find a way home. But the sky was too dark, and the rain too fierce; all the girl did was go in circles.
Then, suddenly, there were arms around her
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The driving beat
of rain and melody
melds.
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seven birds on the wire turn in unison to the right
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He rolls in unbidden across the stubble fields /
Old acquaintance astride a newly booming cloud/
Under sky an alien shade of strawberries whipped/
Her watch stops ticking out the rest of her/
scheduled breathing poses
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My Mother always said that a storm was death knocking.
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It drifted into the sea, I say, when you ask me about home. You’ve only known me for a few moments, so you’re not sure how to gauge me. You laugh, and make an Annabel Lee reference. The English teach in me wants to hug you. The New Jersey in me wants
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But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she
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He awoke, suddenly, as he felt the drops of sweat running down his face.Dehydration derived from the sweltering heat. He pulled the sheets away and sat on the foot of his bed. It was pitch black in the room. He thought about what woke him; a dream he had. The dream…
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Then Diane was following Luke down the highway, her shoes filled with rainwater.
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The thatched roof flew off the stone walls of the house like a hat blowing off. That's when it started blowing. It was the Night of the Big Wind. We were at the wake of John Gribbin when the storm rose up loud as rolling thunder. The wind took poor John right off the ice…
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