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Unbending branches hold up their hands,
In worshipful praise to the sun’s holy bands,
Heartfelt whistles echo the robins coy presence,
While blue jays steal into the nests of pheasants.
Alive is the smell of the pollen in the wind,
Giving always giving…until it’s abrupt end.
Find, If you will, the whippoorwill’s chant,
And the show-off mockingbirds saying “Who can’t?”
Special are these days for carpets of green do evolve,
And evermore we seek the beauty that life does resolve.
In dying, the seeds of our life grow forevermore sublime,
For in our emptying our growth begins as faith upon the line
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