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The Sum
Small Song
"Turn on the hose," I say.
I kneel down on my lawn
To watch the water play.
At the depression where
The tree is set, it fi lls,
Transvisible as the air,
To level, tentative,
Then, trembling, overbreaks.
Its boundaries always give
Where the clear instants slow.
I stand, walk toward my house.
Shade slips. Place is afl ow.