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Ray Phenicie Nov 2014
A fount of grace pouring out into my backyard,
I found there,
There was such a buoyancy to the arching lines,
There was a wild cherry tree blooming,
its scent loaded the air,
filled my nostrils with its bouquet.
Trumpeted its whiteness to the blue sky
The sound was deafening,
glissandi of softness,
felled all gloom,
felled my fears,
and filled my soul with joy.

— The End —