Oh Beauty so Radiant and Magic

You dance at the feet of a Sycamore

Wrap yourself inside its branches and Roots

That you Love me is Certain and Prescient.

I watch as you Lower yourself to Mice.

Even your circumference is Even

Encircled in the Presence of Something

Not anxious but tilling the Seasons Soils

IT thrives without Notice and Hesitates

An Edge is its Surface so Miniature

While it is smaller than Moss and a Tower

A waterfall melodiously pours

Unconcerned for whatever’s the matter.

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