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Child of the old trees

who takes from their flesh its ancient history

Mermaid with a tail of music,

full of longing and the emptiness of longing

Whose lovers vie for her by their skill in stroking

Whose receptivity must be matched

note for note, by their own

Whose song is sweetness

unsurpassed in the ocean of air

Whose silences are nuance

Who sings in the plainsong of wood,

of the sheep in the strings and the horse

whose hair made the bow

(Do they listen

with a greater understanding than we know?)


Click the Leaf

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