Dry seed, watered, grows
To twig-tree which creaks and crows
In cold wind, fragile, blows.
Fall-figs litter, here
Canopies; where river bears
Streams of winding tears:
Ebb, flow into sea-
Bed, and silt where, hidden, lies
Raindrops in fall-eyes.
Lonely, I bear all my lies.
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