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This poem is taken from PN Review 256, Volume 47 Number 2, November - December 2020.

Morning lies along the hill and other poems Carola Luther
Today is blue like blue used to be

I could almost ignore the fields
pale as sponges, the exhausted trees
stunned but upright

Horses stand side-on to the sun
either asleep or watching steam rise
the whitish grass

Still as tables laid with cloth and bowls
of warm food, they don’t move a muscle
They don’t want to ruin it

Flowers are tougher
than they look. Crocuses push up
their soft torpedoes and daffodils yell at the sun

Building continues. Bony crow-nests
shake high up, twig and wing
loud on the sky. Trees will remember

It’s the beech trees gingerly

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