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K is for Kosovo
A Woman Dreams in Kosovo
All night the muddy rocks
along the edges of the encampment
turned to swallows.
They dusted the long road
back to my village
with their wings.
Carrying branches in their beaks,
they built a nest under the eaves
of my house.
As I watched from the kitchen window,
my man came up from the fields
his sturdy body
as yet unbroken.
Our children fluttered around him.
And in the honey of his gaze
was everything
I had lost.
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