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Gratefulness
We touch one another with defter fingers at night.
Rain sounds different, its steady falling a remembered wisdom.
What if the dark waters waiting to carry us home slept inside every one of us?
We were loved before stars existed. We are older than light.
Posted by kind permission of Francine Marie Tolf.
From Rain, Lilies, Luck © 2010 North Star Press of St. Cloud, Minnesota
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I know it’s summer when we wade out into the field and pick these crisp…
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