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ELLEN BRYANT VOIGT | The Feeder
8.
Suddenly there suddenly gone.
Do
they count
if they come not to the back yard but the front,
not to the feeder but the crabapple tree,
its ornaments dulled
by winter?
Multiple,
tufted,
pulled forward by the blunt beak
like dancers propelled by the head:
Cedar
Waxwings:
I almost missed them, looking the other way.
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