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The North Shore
by Leonard M HawkesThe blue-gray cold December moon
Illuminates rising heat;
No wind, only restless frigid air.
Here I stand alone, seek and am sought
Only by the Earth;
The husk, the power of appeal:
The Rod, the Staff, the only persuasion;
But the Soul burns yet,
And with crumbling ash, Moist Truth.
12/29/2005 Author's Note: All on a wintery night
Posted on 12/29/2005
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes
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