(another bird)

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another bird dream probing the tenderness under a wing

Frogpond 36.1

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I was outside this morning, Easter morning, and the birds had all come back to life. The world was light and lively again instead of muffled and deaf in the way of winter. It felt the way it does when you wake up from a dream and the world that seemed so real and important when you were asleep is revealed as a flimsy stage-set world, created by your mind as a venue for its latest improbable fantasy. And now good morrow to our waking souls. 

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