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Jun 2019
the sun peaks thru
my window blinds.
the birds hum
their offerings.
the wind brushes
weight off my shoulders
in between puffs of tree.
Erykah Badu
vibrates my solar plexus.
mornings like this
remind me why
i am alive,
there is work to contrive.
Niesha Radovanic
Written by
Niesha Radovanic
  408
     G Alan Johnson and The Concrete Poet
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