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August
1984
caught
in a streamer
flung
through o’ercast sky
a
spray of leaves
takes
flight
red
green
gold
gently
falling
toward
the ground
careless
circles
scribed
in light
blown
about
and
overlapped
carving
the wind
with
loop and glide
till
in closing
they
bump the floor
and
rest
Ev
remarked that she liked
the
phrase “carving the wind.”
It
seems that poetry is a way
of
recording growth as well.