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Just when I’ve had a full meal of Bruce’s deeper work along flies even deeper wings but somehow lighter enough to connect with yesterday’s gathering of geese vees a-building along the St. Johns River marshes East of Sanford, Florida. This – and when they beat their tired way here about Halloween each year we are gifted mightily – especially with the near-winter fronts pile gray clouds low and lower still so we sometimes can hear the wingbeats and the soft, gentle callings, “I hope the pond has no more houses this year.”

at the traffic light
a wing of sandpipers flies
across my windshield

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