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                                                        from her upcoming collection of poetry, RELUCTANT TRAVELER

A few nights after the full moon
dense fog hovers in the grove
as does dance out of the aspen
carrying curled fawns high
beneath apprehensive hearts
tummies tight from meager forage
the aftermath of late snow and low
teens the twenty-eighth of April.

A robin chirps opening notes
and the corps stops to stare
hooves finding correct marks
on sloped ice-skimmed asphalt
necks canted at the same angle
erect ears exact above wide eyes
until, curtain of cold mist lifting,
black tails flipped on signaled cue,

they plie, releve, and leap
one beautiful body after the other
to begin the day’s long running ballet.

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