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Looking for Shorty’s Cabin
All morning the cabin
kept jumping up the mountain just out of sight,
its walls stacked with tins of food
and stories to last through the winter. After lunch
I came to a field where rocks
stretched out between the pines and there stood a buck, taller than me.
Two branches of horns faced me,
rooted to the spot. We grazed each other’s thoughts across the clearing.
Around us, mariposa lilies
drank the melted snow and pushed their buds toward the sun.
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