O  O
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Saint in the hills

She works at the diner by the side of the road

Angel in white

The little hungry child is always home
with the dream

The rain feeds the mountain rivers and we live

The road is long and all kinds of folk are here

She
She knows

The little hungry child grows

The gods themselves are wondering

Just what it is that he shall do

I sit before you empty

I too rise up and go

Past the window and out the door

To the passageway leads to dawn