Move About Her
J
James McLain
0
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The bush has leaves my branches know her rings.
When days long ago moved past.
And pine it's sap not amber, lay in buckets.
Thick ran down my arms.
The trees between the hills the climb up to the top.
Yellow the sun was always hot.
In Florida making turpentine,
I watched life move about her.
And every movement a struggle each day.
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