1631
5.170
18.vi.24
a winterblue
my up
by
leaf
by
featherspan
by
touch
as
if a cloud too
still
day
here
shadow
then
the breeze
heigh
ho
mulberry
gum
sway top
come
sun
come
rain
and
in the fire
still
some
gathering
all
eyes
each
of us in tree’s reach
day
hollow
middling yet
set
out like a script
the
world in itself
no
one’s here to read
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