How lucky to bear witness while the earth sighs relief

Mist rises to steam
like the bow crosses the
violin, shallow glass
on the sheet of the surface
leavening the hum
like dough in the oven.
The sunken sirens stretch
the temper of our trust,
the darkness of night,
the melody transpiring
in the whisper of waves.
How sacred to wade through tears
roam the hum of old roads
crescendo of calm
and then the pull
of tide
collapsing ashore like
the wind-chime ring
of falling rain,
harking every note
on the timberland scale
and one by one
rambling onto the rockside
gallivanting their return, so 
steadily receding
to start the song
all over again. 
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