Tapestries

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This insect webbing never
will catch at gossamer streams
of any creative purpose
gilt among the midge dance.

Trafficking destinies weave
a sensual poetry,
unravelling rooms, landscapes
and our dialogues with love.

Language changes and touches
may mean other things tomorrow,
remembering you and streets
sung through fuming of buses,
mourning the flapping heron
in a sun-fall of leaves.

...................


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