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Claire
Poems
May 2018
Rustling
Walking home through the
aspen grove, I paused on
the path's edge, startled by a sound
I had nearly forgotten.
At the breath of a breeze, the treetops
shifted and shimmered like a shoal of fish
as all the spring-fresh woods let out
a sigh of releaf.
Written by
Claire
18/F/NY
(18/F/NY)
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