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There is Still Magic in this World
Joanne Sharp | Umatilla Road

As I watch from the window, crows like
black bullets spray across the view.
Sails spread, each brays,
      this way follow me
They dive into the tall Torrey pine,
stud the high branches
like raisins in a fruitcake.
Feathers collapse into scales,
become dark pine cones.
      welcome johnny come latelies
they cry,
that old chorus of magicians.





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