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Poetry

A New Spirit

Before the light is gone

The beekeeper has moved a swarm
to a new hive across the river,

the top of a train winds
through the trees of the valley,

birds fly through open windows
and cross the length of the house,

Smokey and Honey stop at the fence
to shake their manes,

but there is no place
I find peace.

Before the light is gone,
I will walk with pure hands

to where the hills
give way to the mountain

and pray for a heart of flesh
and a new spirit.