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Nov 2013
Blown between thermals
black tips punctuate azure.

Steady glide
empty horizons loom.

Pitiful cries
Fear her own abandonment

and white headed stallions
charge below,

their salt sweat
scorch throat, blind eyes.

An inborn junction
she turns curse free

The scent of green
Fills the levanter
Written by
John Brimblecombe  Northamptonshire
(Northamptonshire)   
829
   Mahima Gupta
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