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A Song of the Earth
Every year the world changed,
so we could keep our eyes on the horizon,
and watch the corn grow taller than our heads.
The river widened, the mountains rose,
but we never changed our course,
holding on to earth’s roots by our toes,
singing songs to the dancing grass.
Now I sit and gaze at the desolate fields,
empty sockets where we used to stand.
I see her in my mind, twirling
through fields with no paths.
She is running through the grass
like a ball, skipping stones
in a spring of water,
bubbling through my toes.
Like flying angels,
we still glide across these fields
the grass bending as we pass on by.
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