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Gates of the City | Poem

 
 

Gates of the City


 
steel, wind and wood

at the gates of the city

make a joyous noise
 

climbing vines

like the prayers of the poor

(heliotrophic and blind)

flower when there is water
 

the violin a lover

at the gates of the city

calling to his own

hearing the rhythm
 

the sound going

round the arch and round the bend

coming back in time

and splashing like a fountain
 
 

- Ken Peters
 

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