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Blinking toward transcendence

By Wilma Weant Dague / November 21, 2002



Out of the blue
South Carolina sky
a white bird hovered.
Transfixed,
and with nothing more to do
waiting for the bus,
I watched
as she surfed the sky.
She seemed
a kite.
She descended
to telephone-wire height
an ordinary plastic
supermarket sack.

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