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New Year’s Morning

After the Rain

Beryl green moss spackles slick asphalt —
and the birds. Oh the birds are awake this morning!
They strew tiny berries — no barberry bushes near, myriad flurries —
the dart and swoop and rise
a loft of wings, twitter and caw,
drenched grass, sodden leaves —
a puddle quivers sky
soft as rabbit’s fur;
blue streaks tear the horizon, rent with light.
Molten pewter heaves distant through trees. The river
after rain. Air eddies
over cheek, lashes, hand
awake
to this new day.

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