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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


perpetual summer.
Green grocer, green.
The world never stops growing here.
Never sleeps.
Never lets the heart slumber
in the dark recess of cold.
Lets the eyes
see the singularity of trees
and stone.
It’s too lush in its profligacy.
I need snow’s clarity.
Thoughts content to be wordless.
gray and still,
where I can walk in sublimity,
and hold the hand of Providence
in loving silence.

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