Wind's what's left
When you take away the water
Gusts like going over rapids
Words in little boats
Rollicking and tossed
With some going under
Several villages of vowels
Entirely swept away
But look over there not far
A whole grove of oaks is motionless
Like a crowd that stops to watch
Some small world fall apart
Wave after wave of wind
Smacking the pages in your hands
Until you let them all ascend
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