By the abandoned farmyard in Hurricane this morning,
A big, black rabbit that turned out to be a charred tree stump.
There was a card gone missing from the Italian tarot
That turned out to be La Fortuna, lying on the floor.
There was a small gamble on unimaginable wealth,
Literally unimaginable, odds know I tried,
That turned out to be a peaceable hour in a closed loop
Within the narrow defile where ravens chortled and trucks
Of interstate construction workers parked for lunch. What luck.
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