This Morning

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Old 13-Oct-2010
This Morning

justin plays with light from space
That catches his gold watch's gleam.
He angles that trout-rapid beam
With a flick from cup, to wall, to face.

Eight minutes, ray, from sun to here
You sped across the airless dark,
Unborn until your brilliant mark
And welcome in our atmosphere

From one brown boy who toys with you
Arriving, now, as minutes pass.
Pure energy through common glass,
Griefless, and forever new.

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