Some high being hides in my hibiscus bush
I come to sit at her feet
Mornings after confusing dreams
To ask her what they meant
Her dreams are clear pointed leaves
Dead or green or yellow
She uses to enfold herself
In an unambiguous glow
Dying together with growing
Suffering into speechless bloom
Until she herself becomes a dream
Drawn up from the dark earth
We tremble when the sunlight
Fills her branches with birds
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