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circling eagles and a jackal

who is hoping down, from

rock to rock, until he

reaches the bottom.  The farmer

at the bottom dreams about walking

up to the top, but

he doesn’t have any wings, nor

does he have any eagles.  They’re

waiting for

him up in between the blue and the clouds.

Except that he can’t

see their colour, he can’t make out the

golden beaks from so low.

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