I know you running through an open field
where wings beat and the swamp sang.
The bean stalk on a fence, I meet you.
The hollow of a cypress, you howl.
On a beach I flew to your temple,
in a river glided to soft silence away.
It’s just the glory of your simple whisper,
presence – absence, evolution and decay.
Now, I’ve followed strictures, heard the many speak
but words all brainy aren’t under rocks or straw.
No, that’s where you smile when it’s quiet.
Yes, that’s where you reign when I listen.
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