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Enter Stage Left
by Harding Stedler
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I sit alone,
except for words,
when the lone Muscovy
enters stage left
and cranes its neck
upward toward my window.
I stick my head out,
talk to it in whispers,
and it seems unafraid.
I marvel at its trusting
and wonder
if it's expecting food.
It will not be deterred
as I watch mother bluejay
teach her young
how to forage
for left-over French fries.
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