Directing The Scene

This night river breaks the grasses.
                I touch air enough to hear
                children in the fragrances,
                                in
the river-wind
                        woods
holding seige,
their voices fire against the trees.

        The children become a music.
            The river is a darker music.
I thrust my hand in it
                                it
bends
everything together.


everything together.


  
I thrust my hand in it
                                it
bends
everything together.


everything together.


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