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9.25am

by Davisupp 

Posted: 29 November 2010
Word Count: 57


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Only this morning, through the leaded light
I watched a blackbird on the Pyrocanthus.
He was close. I could have touched him,
reached out and stroked his head,

there were white flecks on his feathers,
bright eyes, wary, his body trembled:
he gobbled the red berries, each one
held for a moment in his beak. Then gone.







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