There Are Apple Blossoms
There are apple blossoms
under the moon.
There are storms that wait,
larks that sing
in the meadows.
Life is furious to grow.
Blending, blending.
Upon this curvature of earth,
flat to the eye,
we are walking and singing
going along,
singing.
It is a plan
worked out by nature
(or by design).
The vines grow at night
and walkers come tripping,
falling to the water pool,
breathing the water,
thrashing the grass,
glowing, growing.
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