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I’ve heard the fire sing
In her soft rain.
And I’ve seen the foam
Dance in her hardest wind.
Damp wool, the scent
Rotting soil
Salt.
I find the highland everywhere
And from my nightpost
Await her call.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
So I wait through the night
Again.
(about the poems)
View this profile on Instagram Dr. Wallace J. Nichols (@wallacejnichols) • Instagram photos and videos
Dr. Wallace J. Nichols (@wallacejnichols) • Instagram photos and videos
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