Rachel Like turning a leaf in a books endless puzzle;
The rivers of your voice are so pure and sweet!
I listen to their hum behind the music, pick
flowers
to the flow of their shoreline-elegance
whose water pours plain baptismal struggle
on toward oceans of distant belief.
And the ideas that you paint are pure as meat,
configure all flesh and earthly power
as well as the dance
of the dew line drizzle
when mornings in Autumn
bedazzle the leaf.
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