Kingfisher, Easter
You go, askingfor the last of the sunon the water,the newly greening trees,and whichever liveswill show themselves. After the greylag geese beggingon trailing wakesand the squirrel busy in the treesand the nesting moorhenasking not to be seenand the far-away grebesflashing their white breasts, he comes— streak of flame and turquoisestreaming so long and low over ...
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