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Photo by Grant McIver
Twilight’s Poem
Danny P. Barbare
 
 
The twilight wanted me
   To write
A poem about it.
So I took the sky and
   Wrote the word
   Bluebird.
It flew from the east
   And perched
In the magnolia tree
   Quietly singing.
Then slow as the night
With deep blue on its
   Back
And orange on its
   Breast
It flew into the day
   Brilliantly.
In the west, the oak tree
   Was its nest.
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