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163 In the One Space That Wasn’t Frozen the heron, deep in pond water, still as sticks and then, a sudden swoop like the last fruit falling off a tree into snow. I happened to see it, standing near the window, that flash of tangerine and gold in its beak like a barb of sun, a slice of guava in colorless air. It’s been so long I don’t remember something I looked for and wanted to come came so fast ...

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