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The overalls are unbuttoned at her sides.
Her lips smile but not her eyes,
Her belly holds a fourth child
In the late summer of her bearing.
She feels the moving and is full of wonder—
Still—after all.
Winter is breaking.
Squatting under the moon in the snow
She sees the first blood and holds
The knowledge for three days until
The child comes forth after the storm.
Ravens hang on the bright clouds.
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