wails barry manilow on u tube
it's 6:30 in the still-cold 6th morning
the rain-shattering storm from hawaii
is leaving, the tail-end wind lashing and howling
a delirious presence among leafless oakwoods
outside the house in winchester
in the yard with green grass
lined with potted desert plants, tall coconut-like palm
trees tremble like scared humans, their fronds
swishing
and swishing
and swishing like long tresses
of a voluptous woman weeping for her lovers lost
in the night of dreams.
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