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Nanook's River Poetry | |
The Tales are There |
The tales are there
on heath and hill,
up granite stair,
down
alder rill.
You won't find them
in a book,
but
round a fire
in forest nook.
The paths converge
mother and child,
on grassy verge,
in meadow wild.
Come sit by my campfire,
rest your weary bones.
Tell us all a
tale
in your velvet tones.
Reach out and touch a rock
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If I could go with you |