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The last licks of ice
hang from the evergreens.
A wine-breasted robin
plucks a thorn
from a motherdie
and drops it.
Imagine how peopled
this will be in ten years—
how the alyssums
will bloom between
the sidewalk cracks.
Isn’t it beautiful,
how we struggle?
All the rivers of the world
rushing towards
the oceans
if we let them.

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