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On Water Weeds.

Look perpendicular: not across but down,
straight down. Your gaze will pierce
the incessant flow (by the crashing weir).
By the grace of today’s light you may
perceive, deep below the surface,
fixed, impossibly anchored:
green strands of life. As tender as
grass stalks in a meadow (which tomorrow
will be gathered and thrown into the fire)
but even now steady,
slowly swaying like easy dancers, unselfconscious,
the music in their blood playing in their souls:
here is nature at prayer.

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