A broken tulip

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Cement blinders run along the highway
blocking out the strange wonders
you find on the back roads.

Today dozens of seagulls circled
the corn fields, stubbled
like a golden quarantine beard.

Once, a dove descended from heaven
displayed divine delight but gulls, though white,
are no cooing bird of peace. They scream

and ascend from earth in mad spirals
over the sunny, crumbled fields
to touch the cheek of God –

earth’s raspy, tumbling, raucous gift.
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