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  • Lorraine Johnson

[161] Opening Walls

a fresh breeze

appeared at dawn

to wake the slumber

from my walls

planting seedlings

for another round

here as always, to astound

like fallen leaves on summer's end

brings green and splendor all over again

while mourning doves start to coo

calling migrants to come back too

stronger, wiser than before

the breeze persists,

tapping closed doors

the universe—never, ever far behind

appears too—side by side,

opening walls, removing the blues

for one to see and take the cue

to jump right through

and leave the snooze

even if, there's no clear view.


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