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Monday, December 23, 2013

fly far

fly far

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Fly far, fly low to the ground.

Soar over mountains,
feel cold wind in cedars,
hear splashing rain soaked butterfly,
quenched by burning
spattered with raindrops
land in wildfires,
rest on blazing golden boughs.

Fly far, land safely
rest on golden boughs.

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