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clouda

….And I love this poem from James Richardson.  Here’s a slightly edited excerpt:

a cloud has no shape.  As with us: only

when someone looks hard, or we catch

our reflections, do we solidify as

man

woman

whale

weasel

Here’s a link to complete poem, as well as a podcast:

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/02/02/essay-clouds

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