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Field
by Hannah Nguyen

To become
that sudden,

wild wind
fast distancing,

burst blurring
along the trees,

the leaves rattled,
ground quaking

the grass, imprinted
with spring,

green that is endless
to young legs

I almost call
Wait, you're too far

but so charged, this
forwarding, bountiful

breath unbounded
is the boy running.

 

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