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An African Suburb

They hover in across the bay
And cut their wings off on the beach;
Or on the windows of the day
Batter, to fall within our reach.

What storm has thinned them out across our town,
Into brief cries and feathers on the floor?
The whimsy of a cat can bring them down,
And yet they bring our children up. What more

Could God achieve in flummoxing design
Than them and us? His paper airplanes drift,
Or loop and slow and shudder as they climb.
I hand my best friend old shoes as a gift.


Copyright 2017 Sarah Ruden