If you notice it’s a rhythm and rhyme
Ticks to alert before running wild
Then it Tocks at the end of a trail
Meanwhile as the leaves rustle restlessnes
Their spirit is spent in foment the touch
one after another lose shape then sound
they become animate with force of cleft
wedged free from the vast and expansive world
glistening with moist inebriate life
rustling with joyously ripaste a while
the central desire is in its source
what it takes as it gives the gentle force
without arms or defenses or qualms heaves
beauty at once is beauty forever.
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