October 27, 2012
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I hear the birds call.
Witnessing the night's slow dim,
I see shadows bare.

They are very grim.
Tall they stand in nearing death.
Such dark beauty steals...

Takes my scanty breath.
Sun's blood spills over to ease;
Their grim nature dies.

Day does seek to please.
It warms dark and crumbling bones.
Bird's song softens pain.

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