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Three Poems Night Rain I use shards of light to cut through the night rain. I find you weeping and huddled beside the trunk of an oak tree. I have come I have found you dry your tears. Faith in Apple Trees I grow older and larger, and learn to mistrust many things. But I still have faith in the limbs of an apple tree; no matter what my size their slender boughs arc into beams beneath my feet. I climb upward and inward to the tree's crown bending down a twig I peer out over my small kingdom . . . I am lord of many apples. I am pleased. 12 Diane Meteyard Something of the Night Something of the night misplaced long ago reawakened inside the old oak. Young sapling buried in the center ofthe rings had its limbs still bending in the breeze. A young girl was resurrected like the perennial plant in its fight and eventual conquest over gravity and sunlight. Past the long ripening days of summer where my own days had ripened stood red canes heavy with deep purple fruit nodding against reams of orange butterfly weed. I saw through the open fields, a house that opened with no walls, the inhabitants no longer contained by rock and clapboard. My arms opened in wheat of blue and yellow and I heard a child's voice and recognized it as my own. Even the trees have not stood still in this march of light. I see where in my absence they have moved up and down, up and down the mountain across the immense space where a child once played. No epithet is required in stone what I love stands alone the seedling in child as marrow to bone. 13 ...

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