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Two birds,
prairie birds,
have wandered far
and ended up
here.
A mating pair,
chests as gold as a Kansas wash,
they are resigned
to arrival,
home now in the Flint valley.
O, how they must've
tumbled feverish
through storm, night,
sighing all along
and off-course;
the heat of blooming
can sometimes
make lovers
lose their
way. 
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