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Something perfect
Each morning, a new prayer.
Silver light, bright and still
High snipe drumming
at the summit
Casting spells upon
Tremulous air
Joyful swallows streaming
By me as I ride
Young owls peering
From their mossy wall
Curious, and wide eyed.
A fellow traveller
A gentle man
Tells me a tale
How fortunate I am
To want to know the mysteries
And the wonder of the hare

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