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The Dance

by Leonard M Hawkes

In spite of autumn frost,
We found the warmth--
There on the mountain,
Blanketed in darkness,
Seen only by the half-closed
Eye of the Harvest Moon.

No random finding,
No accidental, unintended
Passing in the night--
But mystic steps
In that stumbling through
The meaning of the Fire.

10/04/2012

Author's Note: For Jeff

Posted on 10/04/2012
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes

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