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Like Straw Now, April 1

Like straw now,
heavy marsh grasses
lie useless, broken,

trees without a leaf
circle dark water,
mere black skeletons,

yet through the open window
hundreds of peepers surprise
with loud singing, under

a sun there to waken,
like a curtain going up on
this stage of earthtime,

monotonous music
a sharp stroke of color
across a nearly dead drama.

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