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'The Wind'

By Susan F. Kirch Thibado / April 13, 2006

Writing passes like the wind...
Ink and paper engaged in a dance
of thunder and lightning,
soft breezes and twilight,
humidity and sweat.
It comes in a rush or
barely brushes the chimes hanging
over the yellow roses in the garden.
To catch it is to hold a fleeting moment in eternity.

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