1956
6.130
10.v.25
out in the day
such as
moss soft
brisk in the wintering skin
slept till
all weather befallen
a mist to come by
day like breath grown round
like the creek runs on
grind of the gears of season
up with a tune in the trees
and bright
hear the very grass rise
plan for each next sunfall
make of this my map
and then a moon is given
it’s where the eyes adjust
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