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little duck

water settles
deep my sin –
as seasons over stone
as dreams of drifting
far above –
another to atone

green
the crush
of emerald banks
lace against the clouds
echoing a moment
of tender
felt aloud

keeps me here
reminding me
of days –
tho none the same
truth is sworn
to silence
and ne’er forgets
my name

. . .

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