Summer

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In summer branches Voices thicken on lips of leaves. A vine uncoils a word, A breath of dust breathes mosslike syllables Into a hollow stem. The tree is prodigal with budded sound Down, down to the thinning threads of roots. O you need say no more When in a darkened pool A lotus lifts its silver chalice to the sun, And legend-laden dream the waters of the pool.

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