Day follows the small-lighted chill
Labor, then, as drumming
that flies upward as well
will affix playfulness and repose
to bodies that nonetheless
spring leaks and rain
For all who work in the love of creation,
star-holes in the far canopy
will discharge what becomes feathery.
Come, see and taste what nourishes.
Even afire, a heart beats precisely.
When children and grandparents fret,
a spouse glances knowingly.
Here. Smoke is hardly a cloud.
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