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| Blackberry. Please click to magnify. |
Held up by thorn and bloom,
Why rush to town?
Sweet is the air and the blood drop,
Sweet the pollen eaters,
The wasp whose sting would kill,
Sweet the light I can't look at
That burns my skin,
And the high hawk, black and silent
With murder on its mind
Against the rising cumulus towers,
Sweet the drift in summer clouds,
Bleeding, burned, and stung,
Why rush to town?
