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My Elder Cedar’s Arms


and slipping in

to the woolen green-

where white-capped rapids


below a lichen’s frost

a rockface smiles.

It is here,

The mossy beard grows long


her weeping branches

with invisibility-

filtering the light

in a lattice of dew.

Here she stands,

Mother Cedar-

an ancient witness

to all- that create canopy

for the well of life.

Here, I am home

in the cradle

of this-

captivating wilderness.

My soul-

filled with quietude. “


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