Here in the lap of summer,
in the rain spreading memos, sharper,
The swallows fling,
The boy's cello string,
The day's spiraling thing,
Quiescence overlaps
one after another,
behind the blunt woods,
and blooms,
Both open and closed discussions
add colors to the morning,
Evil is not eliminated but
better understood,
Love is lit by the patience
and hound-like devotions.
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