Tuesday, December 10, 2002

  A swallow flutterflies its way from window to window feeling for free air,
  past passengers passing the time with talk,
  over teh heads of conference goers, cross-country coaches,
  grandmothers, preachers, and poets in businessmen's clothing,
  lifting our eyes from The Star and The Times, and Architectural Digest,
  until he tires of trying the air and settles on a seatback
  conjuring a mate with his song.

  There they sit,
  chittering away
  about, I suppose,
  the traffic.

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