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Clarity
Yesterday
the fog bound-up the dying world
in white gauze,
but truth shred the fog,
would not permit
white lies,
inconsequential slips
to ease the passionate leaves'
passage into night.
Righteous winds ripped
the despairing leaves
and sent them twisting joyfully
high over my house,
to the yard
several over.
I got my neighbor's leaves
so it all
worked out
in the end.
poem
by
Steven Federle
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