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nature tankas
Is April hiding?
A cold wind blows from the north.
In spite of the chill,
the old honey locust is
crowned with a lettuce-green mist.
Water thrusts this way,
a luge of hot Pacific
current, El Nino,
bringing us mudslides, chilly
houses, snow-white Coleman light.
A possum runs in
the ditch by the road as I
jog. I hear rustling
leaves. Later, he peeps through our
window as we watch TV.
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