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Matthew Thomas Donovan


Jewels of the Poor


There is blackness in the sky
Intersected by distant flames
How famous now are burning clouds
That exhale life and breathe again

I think it fine, the dark night sky
So old, its gleaning beams pass by
To cast a line of fate once more
Upon this farmer’s earthly shore

But thoughtful slumber must awake
And so I take up my good rake
To tend the fields beneath the clouds
And whistle under starlight shroud

Submitted: Thursday, May 16, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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