the whirlybirds don’t sing,
but they must hear music the way they dance
during their dash to the ground,
so eager to die,
and it’s a curious thing god did
giving wings to the maple seeds
to fly where the wind would take them,
and like samsara, the samara’s birth pangs
gave a reason to forgo ruination,
so as the whirlybird’s sound
gave a quiet all-around,
there came a mourning dove calling

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