ALSO FOR MIGUEL
As the feathering gull drops his prised shells
And catches them still in the air, spears of grass
And clusters of asters quiver in the breeze of the cello.
Ah, that old enchanter is at it again.
h u g h h e n n e d y
p o r t s m o u t h, n e w h a m p s h i r e
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