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Creation Song
Don Hynes
Driving through the rough hewn gate
past the carved wooden sign
and down the gravel lane,
I found the broad russet hay field
lifted into autumn maple
or perhaps the land was rising up
to greet me like an old friend –
every tree and trembling fern
a voice in the slanted sunlight;
the rubbed bronze earth
reaching out with a song.
Nov. 19, 2010