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RED SKY AT MORNING
Weeks of red eye
of sunset
the Everglades on fire hell
the whole state on fire
and half of Georgia too
red sun mornings greet the early arrivals
a month too soon
the rainy season
and the first named storm
slams at the metal roof
keeps me from exhausted sleep
this fog this end of days haze
this acrid taste of air
and the aquifer
bone dry
welcomes the saline sea
time
and what remains
the haunting
burning eyes
of red sunsets red dawns
we have made
hell
from now on
will bear our name
Gregg Weatherby
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