May 12

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poetry

the maple by the window
put out leaves

stretching down to the shrubs,
out to the pines, and aside

from all this rain
the house is dead quiet,

the living room sunken,
deluged, submersed,

and now
something weighty lit on the roof

but then took off
when I went to look,

and now
some robin singing,

unseen, calling out warnings
or conveying relief,

obscure, obscured
and suffused with green

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