A burnished bronze jasmine
Leaf twirling on the end
Of a spider’s thin silver thread,
In the slanting sunny late afternoon
Air, soon to join its brothers and sisters
In the perennial pied carpet of death
And rejuvenation,
Our good mother
Earth always there.
Leaf twirling on the end
Of a spider’s thin silver thread,
In the slanting sunny late afternoon
Air, soon to join its brothers and sisters
In the perennial pied carpet of death
And rejuvenation,
Our good mother
Earth always there.
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