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The Poet's Progress
Poems
Aug 2020
Matins
Good morning, God.
The dawning day
Chases night's ghosts
Away.
The heralds of morn,
The early birds,
Are singing songs
With words.
Good God, who sees
Each every squirm,
And gives the bird
The worm,
Give us this day
Our daily bread
(And light and life)
Instead.
Written by
The Poet's Progress
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