(c) copyright 2003 by John Moncure Wetterau.
ged with ruby, floating,
heavy with light.
You enter one, still searching.
petals fold around you.
Deer Isle, Maine
once in a church,
once in City Hall,
each good in its way.
Now I choose the shade
of a live oak tree, veils
of Spanish moss,
a hundred cicadas
singing in the branches.
You are in the north,
but still we join
beneath this green
and raucous dome
New Smyrna Beach,
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