ant5

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waking

it’s your hand

after all

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tell

the ants

it’s a courtesy

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fog

even nearby

far away

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most was repartee

that was

the tell

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bees

and goats

insufficient postage

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still

a diagram

the empire

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it sticks to

the branches of trees

drifting dawn mist

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in the corner

among salt grains

an eyelash

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gusts of wind

the stars

startling

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dewy grass

the big leaves

fall

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