clown down and the little brown bird

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i watch it move

my delight the sway

away from there

i can only stare

a dream not compared

in the darkness

winter is a hint

an unclear promise

of cool delight the

sky in cloud loud

cackler of birds they

banter and swoop

miniature mohawks

and cocky grey

crowns but i am the

clown standing in

the doorway how

can i frown when the

rain now pours down

taste the little bit brown bitter

it slides both ways around






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