Crows
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Crows By Robert Diamante I prefer my winter hues maudlin; The poetry flows. I prefer the sky cast gray And lighted by the crows.

The Plowman
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The Plowman Robert Diamante I work hard every spring To redefine the lines between my lawn and the gravel drive, the sidewalk and the median that spans to the curb: … Read More

On Passing
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On Passing (for J.C.) Years pass, we swerve, we veer, we right ourselves on the road. We pass like years. In all that time we think we are in control. … Read More