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the stone, another sky gift
Gore
Cove Track series
time crafted
slippery days after
here’s tall standing
come to the creek’s small roar
we run
a thicket of shadow
a bird’s nest
voices high
and the train
and gone
moss and leaf are travellers too
a far sudden autumn it is
stumps up
each stone a map of ancient tides
I lean
I myself the track
and fall on
like an object in orbit
not quite down
though we touch
this one horizon
the tree is ever reaching
the tune is in the tree
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