Wordsworth's Ridge (For Fran Frike)

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A summer night I find a boat

Tied to a tree

A normal home

She lost her string I'm stepping in

I push the shore there

An act of stealth

A troubled glad without a voice

A mountain song, the boat moves on

The water runs on either side

The circle swell, a sudden light

Takes me
I fix my view Upon the ridge Horizon's eye

Above the gray sky

I tip my oar to raise the stroke

The wading swan, the image broke

A looming peak, a pirate size

Uprears its head, a sudden guise

Takes me

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