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4

Macaw

There is sky all around here

I search the black tree bones hoping for a sign– Come to my bare tree as a sign for me, green-winged flying thing.

There is sky all around here I search the dark limb lace hoping for a sign, pure and lemon bright, green as a seafish in the evening light.

There is sky all around here and one grey night, the bird will alight in my lonely tree as a sign for me, red-cheeked flying thing.

There is sky all around here

I leave this brittle nest, touch not ground again oil my feathers against rain,

warn the mouse as hawk drops down, live in sky beyond the town—with the green/red flying thing.

January 8, 1984

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