Sense of Sunlight
Clearly delineated, the ridge in water
moving at will between shadow and air.
Narcissus exhale upon the zest of spring -
pale yolk, unbleached, brassy stout, and slut -
in the verge of wheeling pollen. Chill light
reflects in echo of the time cutting brook.
Here the tongue knows only patterns sweet,
that in lost moments, name all things.
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