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poem for pastors

out of the window a sea of green trees
perhaps
all within and all without me
since i have felt the sense of death
burly, dozing humble-bee
why do you always stand there shivering
i saw the first pear
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
do the boys and girls still go
last midnight
we break the glass whose sacred wine
green afternoon serene and bright

 



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