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Mar 2012
the wind sat still,
like a guitar
unplayed.
while the trees
sighed in the warmth
of the day.
the hazy ground
glowed bronze
with the heat.
and the children all
sank quiet in
defeat.
nothing was friendly
about that
midsummer’s day.
no one wanted more
than for the sky
to turn grey.
but the sun just
pounded on the
drum of the earth.
and the children cried
for winter, and the cold
that they deserved.
Rebecca McDade
Written by
Rebecca McDade
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