Oh Beauty so Radiant and Magic
You dance at the feet of a Sycamore
Wrap yourself inside its branches and Roots
That you Love me is Certain and Prescient.
I watch as you Lower yourself to Mice.
Even your circumference is Even
Encircled in the Presence of Something
Not anxious but tilling the Seasons Soils
IT thrives without Notice and Hesitates
An Edge is its Surface so Miniature
While it is smaller than Moss and a Tower
A waterfall melodiously pours
Unconcerned for whatever’s the matter.
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