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On Our Way
By Rebecca Clark

We are waylaid at a twist
in the narrow island road
by an array of enormous
silver mobiles: rotating
spheres, cycling cups,
diamond-shapes that arc
on thin metal arms
and beckon us from trees.

Stricken with their glimmer,
their languid swim through cedar
in the afternoon light, we are lured
up the road to a grassy park
where silver beings tower
twenty feet up. Bolted to earth
or strung between trees,
they are stirred by the breeze,
as they bow and stretch
in mechanical tai chi.
We wander, fallen into
some divergent dimension.
Even the resident dog that shepherds us
seems outside the ordinary.

We leave with a teardrop
that will spin, jewelry for the larch
in the turnaround, a twirling reminder
of moving beyond margins.




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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007

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