XIX

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Returning home quietly within my dream

Stepped out of my cloud looked down the hill

To see my mother and her mate the two

Whose warm embrace now years ago from which I would not wait.

I heard her voice and felt his eyes

Each grateful if bewildered, I entered through their gate

Out of the forest blinded, I climbed into their tree

Whose trunk and span and crown did reach beyond my mind

Woven tightly writhing snakes of branches cautioned my return

Now this place no one recalls, its fall leaves color me.

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