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68 It starts with a moth lifting off. Or a child clapping, or a woman shaking a rug. Brickfielder. Chinook, a kind of Foehn. Boreas and Argestes. Harmattan. Mistral. Nor’easter. Papagayo. Sirocco. El Niño. Williwaw. Zephyrus. And after the debris is piled away, sand swept from the stoop, porch furniture righted, ships patched and again sea-worthy, it settles. A single petal coming undone, a woman holds a cold drink to her face. I wade alone through long grass in a still, still dawn. winds ...

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