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Midway April Bulmer An orange pumpkin like a fallen harvest moon. And crisp apples fallen, too, fragrant in grasses, this autumn. A bright blue sky, but flocks of birds are shadows. My shadow is at the fair today. I am heavy in a sweater for it is cool weather and my slow whistle is solemn. There is children’s laughter in the air, but also a bit of blue. Leaves fall behind the Ferris wheel, multi-coloured they circle too.

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