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Pared Down
by: Mariana Ruybalid
Hot thirsty wind rips
needles from tree branches.
Dried pine cones are blown away first,
then tender shoots and new piņon nuts.
Ten weeks after Grandma's death,
my brother sends me an email:
our father has Alzheimer's Disease.
Bark is torn from turn
to reveal ring upon ring
of deciduous matter.
The opportunity for
kindness never ceases:
I reach for the phone
to call my mother.
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