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Found poem #2

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Shade had fallen by deep green pools,
Climbing up slopes hilltops of Gabilan mountains,
Rosy sun left mottled sycamores,
Smoothly glided twisting water snake,
sycamore leaves turned like a wave,
Dry, brown, silver sides leaves,
Ground scudded, flowed up wind waves,
Tiny waves frantically died quickly,
Gust drove and sounded rush of wind,
Motionless swallowed plucked heron.




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