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poetry in motion

i reside at table mountain
sing again the song you sung
among the mountains i wandered
once this soft turf
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
had he and i but met
what do i owe to you
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
dark-eyed
quietly, with reverance, in awe
god
just now
i shake my hair in the wind of morning

 



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