WE RAVISH THE DAY
ON WHICH WE MAKE
NO DEMAND.
TUCKED IN THE GRASP
OF TIME'S SLOW CRAWL
BEGIN TO LOVE THIS LAND.
BLACK FIGS PLUCKED FAT
AND RIPE FILL OUR NUT
BROWN OPEN HANDS.
THE TILLED VALLEY SHINES
SOFT AS SIFTED FOG OR
A SUDDENESS OF GRACE
IN SUNDAY MORNING'S
LACEY MIST JUST BEHIND
YOUR KIND RADIANT FACE.
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