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a riot of bear grass
dances in the swirl of wind that can’t decide
to come or go
but perhaps to visit
and make the round of friends
the wind at this height,
despite her strength
wails like a child
whether a tantrum at the intrusion of strangers
or spite born of loneliness
i haven’t decided
but within either
she has an intense need
to speak her mind
someday i will make this climb
only with the picture album open
to explain the tilt of walls
but today I breathe well,
my legs behave
i know where i am going
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