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The wind rises

By Kathleen Leverich / March 9, 1981

The wind rises when the sun goes down The lap, the lap To wade out, exchanging air for water To dive in, to be relieved of gravity unembodied in a fluid world. To be the instant of a flashing fish small mystery, silver without reason appearing, disappearing where it will. To travel trailless, soundless through the dark To become a being hardly credible A mystery in a sea solution A clue in a l arger mystery

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