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sometimes
sometimes
a mountain
will
have its one little cloud
grey
as water falling
just
there
neither
here nor
high
hover of all day hung
as
if grazing
although
at this height
the
grass is gone
no
matter
in
another world
it's
a feather fallen
for
windlick
wisp
of weather
small
so thick sometimes
so thick sometimes
you
won't see through
like
a little
fleece
you'd call in for dinner
lithe
as the day is long
climb
to it
and
watch your footing
hang
halo
recumbent
with a length of word
and
mouthful meaning
too
much has been read in
all
summer
soft
as shadow
grass
woven
in
the years of wind
clouds
cut hard here
shape
straight lines
carve
time from
the
day to pass
there's
nothing
in this world
fast
as a mountain
see
how it ran till
watch
the moss bloom
there's
nothing
so sound
as
a cloud asleep
time
simply
won't pass here
last line slays
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