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PIACULAR’S CRY

Dark mist rising,

Drum beneath a keening sky

This scent of loam, of leaf, of yearning,

Of memory’s wail

And piacular’s cry...

Penitential ruminations,

Longings anew, ignored.

One evanescent expiation,

One understanding forward...

Revisit and addition to an old friend during this forced virus pause.

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