Today’s all blustery full
of excuses and wrong cloudy
addresses forced entries
to no exits and on the wall
to the right my own private
Guernica in black and white
flashing shadows of new-leaved
branches gesturing puppets
of no plays and to the left
a naked stick standing erect
urgently waiting to bloom
and all the while the sun
whipping in and out of the
yard chasing the curious wind.
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