Open the day to the part
where a clear drink sours
or a dream brings you 
the head of your enemy. 

Morning shrouds 
itself in a haze you 
will spend hours 
carefully unwrapping.

A hare steps into a circle
of dirt; and there is no 
trap hidden between
lettuces and marigolds.

Clouds skitter 
as if in a time-lapse 
photograph over every place
that had a thousand vines,
every land that poured forth
abundant milk and honey.


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