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Helicopters We raked and scooped Filling a bushel Millions! But just the dry ones Where best to throw them? It had to be high The highest we dared And clear, no branches The garage roof!! One of us chosen Up the ladder “Don’t blow it!” “Don’t waste all that work!” A mighty heave As high as the sky! Around us they swirled! An invasion fleet of Maple helicopters |
Additional Notes:
Joanne talked about a "winged Maple key" in her poem and I thought,
we always called them helicopters. I wonder how many different
names there are for those fascinating little seeds.
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