The way the sunset bleeds gently
into the body of the horizon,
the way little birds swing up together,
right here, outside our house,
clear pale blue winter mornings
and their lingering silver stars.
I love these things more than
any thought of other lands,
any dream of dappled seas.
Yet with the fire and wind
that quickens my tongue, I say,
I love you more than all of these
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