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The rhythm of the ‘copter cutting through the sky
over the horizon as a plane soars by
the busyness of busy-bods setting up for sports
doggies playing friendly games doggies of all sorts

the sound of the clanging gate in the corner of the park
the chirping in the trees, not spoiled by a bark
the excited child’s voice as she throws her dog a ball
surrounded by a peacefulness, enveloped in it all

Sitting on the bench where John Vaughn watched the birds
hanging in the gentle breeze my litany of words

 

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