To Your Depth
The sprout looks up at the sun,
and then the rain
hours later,
and she sleeps when the moon
shares its gleam…
and then will ask the me at the
next sun’s flare;
did you miss me ?
In turn,
I simply shake,
as merely
the maple leaf when summers
breeze
causes its tremble,
and answer
in words and
hard flesh;
yes I
in my zenith
am being summoned
to your,
depth
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