from a morning i woke up and lost my voice

i hear new things from the morning pine boughs:

be gentle, be still, be ever green/

i hear new things from the white and open lake:

be empty, be form,
be a song when you ache for more/

iโ€™m trying, dear mother,
to let the soft animal love as he does

but my morning body wakes
from contorting and bothered aches

so today, i try, and
i hear new things from the bleating dusty streets:

just go/ just go/ just go/

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