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a
temple garden after rain
and half the leaves half turned
now lit
weather under me now
so make my devotion
dragon drool over the sacred puddle
flowers fresh assigned
there’s stillness of a great bell
maple tremble
strew of wet stone
witness the calm of cloud for procession
butterfly for cliché
just over the tiles of the roof
its all the valley’s river run
some would say therapy
some would keep stum
if ever where
to be found by a poem
this must be the place

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