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When asked for some words to interest the reader of this little volume 'Being' I thought these words are about not being-from the title poem: Not to find the dawn unfolding with me as I stretch myself from sleep. Not to be greeted by blinks of reds or golds among the branches, nor every now and then by watchful garden birds. That would be the death of me.

Produktbeschreibung
When asked for some words to interest the reader of this little volume 'Being' I thought these words are about not being-from the title poem: Not to find the dawn unfolding with me as I stretch myself from sleep. Not to be greeted by blinks of reds or golds among the branches, nor every now and then by watchful garden birds. That would be the death of me.
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