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And geese fly over like the sound of my alarm clock.
While the mysterious sounds of Seneca guns pique
my mind. I wonder have I heard them and am
convinced I have but was unaware they were what
they were. Perhaps I thought it was only a fallen tree.
A deer hunters missed report. The thunderous
applause of a relief package being passed. The gavel
on this horrible year. Deep. Hollow. Distant. Sometimes
lights appear in the distance. Now I am convinced they
have always been a part of my life. There. Looming
just outside of vision. Like geese, flying over.
Like my alarm clock being pounded into the
nightstand. The lamp going over. Well,
that explains the lights anyway.
Markle~
22December2020
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