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Feb 2011
Picking him up off of the ground
And wiping his little face
The face of love peering into forest brown eyes

Came back again, lost but then found
Wrapped warm in skins and furs
No more tears and deep nighttime cries

A golden morning music filled sun
Nodding awake gently, blue hewn wind
Erasing unquiet, unkempt and wrinkles

Fruit from the ground, food for her son
An escape from dreamland and a roaring buffalo
A trillion stars: flash, elaborate, stun and twinkle

Healing a scar, no more tears, no more blood
Forgotten and sprinkled into the wild fields
Murmuring replaced by silent applause and smiles

A little boy god made from mud
A corn-blue feather at his feet
Dancing creatures, the forest, four miles

Jonotuwa working the light with glass
Pottery, a decorated egg, incensed flowers
Berry red dye accenting glowing skin
And for that night accepting mask
Spied a bird, we sing, we’ll fly
Until we feast and replenish the garden.
Samuel Preveda
Written by
Samuel Preveda  New York
(New York)   
865
 
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