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  • bird song is swelling
    dawn not far behind
    inside, rising to my surface
    a bubble
    soft and sharp
    ready to explode

    night is ending
    and my forebodings
    my embroideries within in its bounded margins
    sewn monotone, so dark in weight
    in substance
    leaving me this feeling

    a somehow sweet and tangy
    bubbling joy
    love rising up in me

  • .




    still in progress
    still taking shape
    getting ready to explode





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