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A skein of geese flew Over the blazing sky in A honk of sound. The rowan waved his Arms to the passing birds, who Aim for the sky. The old man by the Fence breathed in the chilly air Beckoned by sound. In cool and dark the Brock snuffed the change in the air, Onward they flew. The tide was at ebb, When a rind of moon, lit up The passers by.
27th October 2001
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