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Spring Breeze

The pedestals are gone
what is left?
“Dark wells fill from the bottom” and
“I bend my ear.”
Dreams dreamed
books read
words spoken
fears not uttered
the one about: is this all there is now?

Time for the marvel of the seed sown
the miracle of the acorn/tree
the love of the flowing river.
The revelation that nature is substance
not consequence - this, the dictate of my heart.
It brings me peace just to think of it.