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Mist on the tops
Silver in the valleys
Goldfinch clouds
Tinkle high overhead
The soft exhalations
Of raindrops on turning leaves
Soft golden acorns
On my moorland oak
Little lights in the grey
I try to catch
Summer's wake
Betqeen me and the clouds
As a hundred beautiful geese
Disappear into the breeze
Their strong wings
Strumming the air

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