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Resting Place


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The heart seeks a resting place

In the hollow of a tree,

Atop a boulder in a singing stream

Where only the sun can see.

 

A converse of birds and bees,

And a meal of falling fruit,

And a calm secure from the footfall

Of inspectors in pursuit.

 

The world now has agendas

That to friendship do not tend;

The sweetest solicitations disguise

Some purposeful intent.

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