Last updated:
June 1, 2020
Lori M. Cameron, editor
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Newborn – Paula Weld-Cary

Let me walk along the curves of creeks
on paths of yellow sorrel,
let me walk through mottled shade on stones
worn smooth, not knowing of tomorrow,
through new spring air in wordless speech,
through bluegrass overgrown,
where tiny flowers tucked beneath
brush softly, softly, at my feet.

Surround me like a gentle rain,
sing softly once again,
and do not call me back too soon
from milky sky, from rising wind,
from tiny tendrils near my skin,
this place so faint yet warm and near
is dreaming in my ear.


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