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September 9, 2004 - A poem about Nature


Near one foot on Wiseman’s Bridge
the bosky dance of trees to teal sea.
shot-slewed on the grey incline
down toward the quartzite bed.
Joyful, feeling the soft tongued
ardent lick of bridled sun,
running down the scallop edge
of the valley, but still seeing -
all through crossthread eye.


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