Ode to Fiona the Hare-Maid

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She hushed stars to sleep,

tucked Moon under covers,

folded fleece dew,

and pruned black hole residue.

Fiona, the hare-maid: hopped ocean for sky, shined Sun’s glare and polished cloud reflection. a mystery and a whim, she lived in watery wordless still small of day.

 

 

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