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The heat has dulled, it's sharp finish exhausted
Time will do that
The earth sighs, in tired relief
There's little happiness in it
The next rain will be greatly wanted
It will mark the end of one season to the next
Not some date made centuries ago
And purported by printmakers
With paper and ink
We believe it because of what it is composed of
marble
stone
quickened breath
unencumbered sighs.
I turn to Valentine and Raphael
To Eros and Aphrodite
Saints Brigid, Cecilia, Columbia and David
And cast my thought to stone
My sighs to lightening
To cast a thought upon the August skies
This time
Make the sky weep
ink.
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