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poem for pastors

dear wife
softly weeping
old wine to drink
sweet with fern and rose
out of me unworthy and unknown
i reside at table mountain
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
just as my fingers on these keys
do you hear the rain?
softly now the light of day
if i were very sure
when freedom from her mountain height

 



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