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Poem
The Dove walks with sticky feet Upon the green crowns of the almond tree, Its feathers smeared over with warmth Like honey That dips lazily down into the shadow ... Anyone standing in that orchard.So filled with peace and sleep, Would hardly have noticed the hill Nearby With its three strange wooden arms Lifted above a throng of motionless people - Above the helmets of Pilate's soldiers Flashing like silver teeth in the sun.
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