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before
a hat's required
sometimes a first thing sun
will catch at the mist a ridge holds high
then you see trees outlined
well beyond the eyes' reach
like a little truth that's come to you
without your having had to call
it isn't a practised thing
not like a fence
in its years that are barbed
and concerted with lichen
quiver of arrows
all for the earth's heart
but blunt and blunter
each day
let it be wooded
time will allow
mist and sun
and ridge to light

Beautiful marriage of image and poem
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