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The Thrushes of Egypt
about which I dreamed
but not seen
except in pictures
feathered throats
lifted open in song or chatter clucking
praising sunshine or stormy skies the
weather never matters to the birds
den as they are in nests of twigs and leav
es in trees bushes underground in rock
y levees against the raging waters of the
Nile the far blue Nile
its old flood
season waning in the desert its dams its
fortifications its gods and Pharaohs its
slaves and uprisings its dictators its up
risings its gold its slaves dictators and
its thrushes singing in the
bushes by the roadside where the camels
also glide

January 14, 2014
Beverly Dahlen