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Memory

dd
Aaron Daigle
November 5, 2012
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Trees hunch over sky; skin 
and hard-bone cliffs.

Come winter: beards of ice,
grunting stone. That day

I walked into surf, wore a shawl
of sea spray.

Still in her armchair, my grandmother wades
past headlands

to open ocean where waves 
wrestle and refract.

And then farther: there, the sky 
is unbroken and the wind

never blows. Her returning rain
sews green to grass.

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Filed Under: November 2012, Shorthand Tagged With: Aaron Daigle, poetry, Shorthand

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