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baby poem

i cannot always feel his greatness
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
this ancient silver bowl of mine
all within and all without me
sad are they who know not love
when freedom from her mountain height
over the river they beckon to me
backward, turn backward
come down at dawn from windless hills
shades of night were falling fast
i am singing to you

 



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