Virginia V. Hlavsa Connecting the Dots Finches, gold, dot the air, the trees. Teaming, they hop, light bulb over light bulb ap the willow's weeping leads. Disguised, they have been there all...
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Virginia V Hlavsa Obligations There is a house I must often pass, so ugly—yellow with black spots and stone lions and retread planters—I have trained my eye to look across the toad or up or...
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