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A July 4th poem

I stand beneath, looking up red, white and blue furling, unfurling, whipping in the wind. seams stitched by creative hands joining red to white, white to red puckers along the stitches nothing unites seamlessly individual threads are tortured, disrupted their own bent pressed into service to the whole - stitched together proud of what we can accomplish united as we stand. MaryJane Nordgren, Forest Grove




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  • 26 Nov 2014

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  • 27 Nov 2014

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