she the dispossessed,
having dropped from her green perch,
is the way of life.
a long walk alone
finds me mulling her new state
in a chancy world:
a fruit of some tree,
cloying as the grace of eve,
is among new friends.
everything falls here;
faith, love, hope, time, are all braced
for good of the Truth.
i am the apple,
the searching leaf, the pine bough,
the draining waters.
all is returning,
all is hearty abundance,
all is what it is.
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