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The Long Visit
Mary Scardino |
The heckler wind
got his revenge on time.
Rightly so, it whisked
away winter's damage.
Welcomed, and listened
to for its invisible mime,
the land's enforcer frisked
last season's visage.
The hurried sky
adjusted,— blue, waiting
for clouds to subside,—
peaking through the cover
at this wild guy.
Real sirens sing,
twisting with tide
in a maneuvered hover.
Birds fly lower,
cling tighter,
wings closer.
A leaf imitates,
mimicking soft glide.
Hair flips to the side.
"Just passing through,"
he relates.
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