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In the wink the suns rays turn black to silver In molten precision He leaps; hopping A mystic dance around his meal Cloaked in glistening pitch The whisper of each immaculate feather brushing against the others No more a flawless symphony could nature compose than the sounds of a raven, being

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 1/25/2019 11:56:00 AM
This is wonderful Heidi! A fave :))) xomo
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Heidi Coon
Date: 1/25/2019 12:06:00 PM
Thank you kindly, Maureen.