Dawn-sallowed willow hangs down a creek,
Caresses my resting, tear-kissed cheek.
In yawning dawn, which breaks anew:
Wallows my mellow, dirt-stained sleep.
My frothing broth which, bubbling, sings
Rain-bowed herbs to rain-caught dreams.
This willow, forgoes my welcome, speaks:
Come hither child, and cradle me.
River ebbs and crests to be
The longing call from languid sea.
I grasp warm wood and, hoping, dream
For dog days free from broken sleep.
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