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crushed under the weight . . .
such speed without location
read between the lines

my gear

collecting my gear . . .
paint brushes, bucket, ladder
college diploma

do I care for you
futile attempts have been made . . .
do you care for me

my reach

following my reach . . .
the old passes into new
if not now, then soon

a trove

a trove of bright gold
glitters in the deep cloud bank . . .
sunbeams break and run

had a visitor . . .
took me on the big coaster
but left the next day

the sun’s bright decrease
shadows fall within its deep . . .
linger there, without

daybreak winter park
light sparkles on frozen ice . . .
ethereal rime

What Child is This

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

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