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No one slept and there was no moon
The cat ran down the stairs to yowl at the door
Day pools in with the tide: slate grey, green-edged
All the emails people sent overnight
in their own sleepless havoc News of the dead
those to be born Over the din of leaf-blower
rare silent grackles stand upright in the trees
shaking their heads If I could bring anyone a coffee
it would be this great blue heron huddled
in his corner of the marsh low dispirited
waiting for the sun as thick clouds gather
Let me just run out in my boots now
set the warm mug at his scaly yellow feet

 Jess Feldman

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