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From Meadow Rue

From meadow rue to seven rocks
You'll find a path to the rippled mud
High tide floods over. Fractions
of ringed rock invert to divide
The spills and splashes of sky.

A place at this emerging line
Will drown twice daily
And rise into landscape when the tide ebbs
And flash what may be signals.

From one day to the next, aware
Of here-to-there from rue to rock
We shout our thesis of amazement.
Our footfall hurried out in dotted lines,
Our words flashing back and forth.

Over the flags of the salt meadow
We shout of territory and landmarks.

Who would recall
How way back in some forlorn time
We left the tide to have a look at it,
Exiling ourselves forever among dry craters
In the dry uneven wind.

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