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Kintzugi
Echoes of a glorious sunset
Still somehow present
The lilac-white dome
Of this mist-hazy morning
Fractured in the east
by the rising sun
Faint golden edges
Revealing hidden layers
In a sky more beautiful
For its brokenness.
The gold of the gorse
Lighting the heather
Where a ticking wren
Curtseys like a Dipper
In a purple stream.
A dark butterfly
Rises from a thistle
Like a line
from a forgotten poem

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