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Sunday, October 14, 2007

The Storm by G. O. Warren

She reached for sunset fires,
And lived with stars and the sea,
The mountains for her temple,
The storm for priest had she.

Together a libation
They poured to the God she knew,
Such wine as ageless heavens
And lonely wisdom brew.

Now she has done with worship,
For her all rites are the same;
Yet the storm keeps green forever
The moss upon her name.

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