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Wednesday, June 26, 2002

Original revisted

Cottonwood

LIke snow, they float,
Cottonwood seeds
From tall trees,
Here on summer solstice,
Where it's hot, hazy,
And flurrying. Flakes
Cling to my clothes,
Drift into my car. The
Light wind, it catches
The gossamer balls
On the ground
And whirls small
Single-helix tornadoes
Around my feet.

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