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Growth
At what instant does the summer change?
What subtle chemistry of air
and sunlight on the clean and windsmooth sand?
The small birds at the water's edge -
yesterday they were not there.
So suddenly the magic door is shut,
the trio suddenly is done,
the clasped hands inexplicably apart;
however dear, however bright,
the road we traveled on is gone.
Jane Tyson Clement
Read more of Jane Tyson Clement's poems at: Plough
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