Hide In A Thousand Secret Places
P Patti Masterman
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Sleeping shapes know that long trembled looking
Gladdens the soul on its regular haunts,
Like the buried kite rises from its dew of puddles
And circle-walking cloud-catchers wave back taunts.
This all-sun heart swoops down dust-laden lanes
Feeling hidden songs; streaming bars of golden highs.
From benches birds roam shaded fields of the heavens
To fly near vines, where sultry hands catch the night.
Bu şiiri puanla
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