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She of Ojibwa

beauty, oh beauty that opens my soul
twirling snowflakes cluster
on the silver pond
soon to hide the icy circle's mocking
of a sparkling night sky - hushed to hark
an angel's voice beyond steady reeds
sings alone

beauty, oh beauty that opens my soul

she of Ojibwa's past and morrow
her soft voice as a cupped hand - gathering
as perfect as the rising moon
settling with love on the silver pond
for this reason I am alive
beauty, oh beauty that opens my heart

© 2012 Luke Aditsan

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