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Thursday, February 23, 2017

Ill winds

The wind's ill
but it blows well
and good. To some
one, no good being
left a great sum when
it wasn't willed. No,
not by a wind, nor
Time, nor the Easterly
ways she hangs about,
and cross, creases her
face to say hi,
then leave it, her
with the wind.

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