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Carry the fruit aloft, for if they fall, so you shall descend

my hands hold many plums
and white wool covers my
eyes.
bright cocks
peck round my still feet
my nose is thick
with mud and
green.
early morning
does not know
how to intrude.
She stands still
like me,
and holds plums,
keeping them safe
from the fowl and the mud.
Together we stand,
and inhale the
calm quiet,
but she wears no wool
over her eyes.





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