Poem, Alive

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At birth it bubbles
and bends from brook
In luminous light
We think and look.
At point we picture
a path and toil
With wondrous methods
to shift the soil
Till we discover
to carve and curve
And teach such a stream
to swing and swerve

At point, once again
we sight with glee
from brook to stream
now shining sea
At shore words whisper
they live and thrive
Walking on the sand
the poem is alive





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