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tid sah (Tom Atlee),  1969

          47          

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near this feathery stream i stood
i watched this water
         roll these stones with care
     (like birds their eggs in nests
which born they
         in some summerleafy hood
and warmed with their
         brown breasts bare)

leaning against this root-split rock
i sang my feet in these waters
         (like some sun
     in wet cascades of sky)