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Bull Hawking


In The Morning


In mourning I begin to write

Will this be a poem

Or grocery list?

I don't know

I just know the sky demands

I speak. My heart lifts up high.

What is there guides my words

If the thrush lands on the bush

I sing

If the wolf crouches

I howl. If the deer pants

I become thursty.

Give....be careful to give

Everything its due.

Submitted: Friday, July 12, 2013
Edited: Friday, July 12, 2013

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