Blessed spirits dance quietly
With patient anticipation.
When did I wait so actively,
Cleansing the air with breezy hope,
Shining through shade from field to slope
Disciplined emancipation?
If I had their breath, I would sing.
Mosses would spring near mica paths.
Golden ore would come spilling down
From Burberg to Mary’s home
While she dreamed. Sighs would be healthy,
Yawning to raise a cathedral
In the highest soprano’s mind.
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