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Keeping Dry MAG
October 12, 2011
There are places we must go.
To lean over hand-rails and watch the storm:
Wonder
Where we were when the sky was formed,
In shades of fire and gold.
The fresh, black pavement of night shook like the earth,
Cracked with great webs of lightning
That wove baskets through the trees in our backyard.
We must go to the tree house,
And ride out the storm.
© lily H., Kekaha, HI
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