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Bright-Morning
Bright Morning

I go
for a walk today.
The world is alive—
birds swooping and singing like phoenixes,
red, yellow, orange dahlias,
their petals bursting
as if they think that they are fireballs.
We see
a dead bumblebee on the sidewalk.
I bury it,
my cold hands on its delicate body.
Maybe it
too
will rise from the ashes.

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