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A rock raised up
by the roots of
a wind-thrown oak—
nothing unusual,
just a dark red
chunk of bedrock
gripped by a trio
of roots with black
cracked bark—
I saw it had been
washed clean by
who knows how
many storms & still
held aloft, as if in
some parting gesture
toward the celestial
powers that did
the tree in, saying Here,
take your damn
rock back.

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