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Saturday, April 13, 2013

The Call



                                                
At your command
I have kicked off my sandals
And lain aside all that distracts
Here I stand
On shaky feet
Absorbing
The warmth of the earth
‘Who am I?’  You ask.
‘A writer.’ I say
What is that in your hands?
'My writery.'

It is my rod and my staff
In this burning bush of life









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