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BUY HERE!

Midsummer


I'm waiting for the year to turn
Holding my breath as the globe
On its axis tilts
Towards what? No
Away from the sun

The pregnant year
As the earth moves away
Gestates.
Fruit, will come
At a later date

Now the birds sing
And all is poised on promise
Where are we going?
Back around to the beginning again.


Bridie Moore