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the rain
remembers everything
the chill –
the warmth
the sun
she dances on my window
late at night
playing songs
forgotten me –
how could I have known
she shares with me
the memory
of winter’s sweet delight

buckets full
as creeks run o’er –
the river has no bounds
but for home
a lover seeks the sea
banks are lost
beneath the push
of pines against the waves
babies float
as ancients watch
for me

pure the smell
of mystery –
when flushed from neath
the clouds –
longing carved
to every standing stone
music rises
from the pound
of needles to the dirt
sins are lost
this wanting to atone

. . .