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Now it is fall

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when all the golden birds
fly home across the blue deep water;
On shore I sit rapt in its scattering
                                                       glitter;
departure rustles through the trees.
This farewell is vast and separation draws close,
but reunion, that also is certain.

My head on my arm I fall asleep easily.
On my eyes a mother’s breath,
from her mouth to my heart:
sleep, child, and dream now the sun is gone.—

Source: Poetry (March 2012)
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Now it is fall

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