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Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Waiting by the Forest Stream

What is the language of rain?
I thirst for the opening of your lips
The words and the silence on your tongue
Time falls in drops the sea does not receive
they sink into my being

What are the thoughts of the trees?
I wait beneath the green branch of spring
I will take the world in my eager mouth
A willow wand starting to bend
Melding with the wind

What are the feelings of the earth?
The blanketed platform to which you come
I bend and weave beneath you, a leaf in a stream
It is your voice I want to go on hearing
Your touch opens the bud

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