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The birds raise a cacophony for food
hovering over the river of summer home
washing off flakes of winter memory
in the duck-warm joy of another renewal
bobbing up and down with the waves
like I hold her in my dancing visions
gazing waywardly her way
gauging if somewhere in the ether
hers meets mine
guessing when they do
sparks of fire
will burn the logs
keeping another winter at bay.
On a vessel on the river with her, in the company of migratory birds, March 20, 2017, 5pm.
 May 2017 Skaidrum
Charlie Harman
Tomorrow looms as if it is a storm cloud. Perhaps I should ask what will come of this storm, or perhaps I should just wait it out...

You know when the storm hits it will destroy everything in it's path.

But remember destruction always brings new growth.

Tomorrow looms as if it is a storm cloud. But as far as I know, storms always end with a rainbow.
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