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When spring rolls in so does he,like a man just off the trainfiddle on his back, whistlin’ down the tracksongs he stole from somebody.He’s weaving bluebird melodieswith sparrow trills and warbler revelries, on my backyard fence with much ado. Like a boy at a coffee shop open micguitar in hand and skinny jeans blue.Just hoping … Continue reading Mockingbird [Poem]