The nameless grebe sighs
And mildly wakes the shutters--
The Dream feels cool air on it's face
And expands like a bladder,
As the populace starkly observes
The ritual movements of young girls
And Wisdom, that toothless wolf,
Drinking Spring's delight, holding the cup
Delicately with both feathered hands--
The Sun rues the irretrievable shadows
And the swollen streams burn
Screaming with fullness--
O Jakob!
The Angel is stirring.
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