bending winds and refuse
coursing crevice wide
~
all hunker fore her fiercesome rolic
over wyld hill and prone delta
she who makes all judge
their advance inversed coarse
~
with arid spaces spit and blistered
fronting an aqueous pilgrimage froze
by the roots of firma blown aghast
her majesty climbing torrents ever bowed
~
for none can not breach her bounds
hie and sigh
these four corners of fault
but flow and ebb receding
we lay down and March the trough
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