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thanksgiving poem

i saw the clouds among the hills
and with the humming bird
from floor to ceiling
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
green afternoon serene and bright
i have heard that a certain princess
the darkness rolls upward
a pen of steel
i saw with open eyes
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
they in the darkness gather and ask
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
glooms of the live-oaks
muffled drum's sad roll has beat

 



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