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Oh garden bird
you kept a wild heart
between your ribs
as you danced
the morning zephyr
darting circles
through the phlox.
Your last song
sang of forgiveness
to the cat
before you died.
Let me hold
your empty body
till I feel again
the pulse
of swaying hills
and flying trees,
till my own wings spread
new feathers
and we both reclaim the sky.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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(a re-post)
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