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nature poem

the pale day drowses on the western steep
be not false
i am a woman
let us plant
when i go back to earth
storm
beside a stricken field
blossoms of babies
i saw the clouds among the hills
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
in the dark and peace of my final bed
winged shadows sweeping by
listen to the sounding sea

 



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