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A herd of soft Jerseys
On the top field, grazing
I'm feeling the sifting
of days into seasons
The drifting of years
The denial of reason
Spring in the winter
Summer in spring
Hesitant cherry blossom
A rushed month too early
The sands shift too quickly
The skylarks still sing
And the swallows
are home from the south
A single green Lapwing
The last of the thousands
Shines in royal livery
Up on the high lea.

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