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by Michael Escoubas After the blare of horns after the scream of sirens after the ricochet of bullets and blood after the Herculean effort of making sense all day, I enter this landscape, board the sailboat as if invited, Come, hang your feet over my fantail, lose yourself in the gentle folds of my wake follow my waves as they gently lap the shore, let the light above the tree line wrap you in its shawl, let the cool breeze lift the day be still within be still without be filled with beauty and love.
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