Sorrow blended itself
with absolute divinity
of a certain glade
filled with eaglets
and snakes and trees.
All this was blended
with vines old and young
in full bloom all
the wind of the mountains
flew about my head -
standing gaping at the dale
with backdrop of a range
of kind space between the clouds
spare colors except verdure
stark grays and bright blue
No painting - no photograph
would bring out the depth
of one Thursday in August.
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