Grey sky
Lively swallow
Or swift
Grey sky
Calm fellow
With this gift
One happy insect
Among perhaps a billion
Takes off from my page
Into the great grey yonder
Excepting
That the sun breaks through
Summer returns
Yet hardly with a vengeance
Instead we have twenty-one degrees
And no sign of the blue sky
My standstill, or my standoff, or my simply doing nothing comes at me with ease, the weight of this occasion you see is so so easily borne.
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