SLIPPING AWAY
Be still spring peepers
I'm want of sleep
the lilies neath
the rushes weep.
Be still night breeze
I'm soaked with chills
cool river caressing
the old wood mill.
Be still loons cry
I'm sore afraid
the evening fairies
fill the glade.
Be still, be still
I'm in deaths call.
The light spring snow
hushes them all.
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