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thanksgiving poem

i can not tell you now
simply speaking
calm as that second summer
my soul is a dark ploughed field
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
there is an hour of peaceful rest
three years ago today
i never knew the earth had so much gold
under a spreading chestnut tree
dear wife
out of the deep and the dark
do the boys and girls still go
thou unrelenting past

 



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