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Islands all around,
each with its pine trees, and the wind--
how cool its sound!

The blue heron speaks,
I am laughing at the rain,
the song of the clouds.

The old pine tree
speaks divine wisdom;
the secret bird
eternal truth.

One apple blossom!
This place singing with the spring,
recreating me. 

The mountainside speaks,
telling secrets to the tides,
murmurs of the earth

The bridge in winter,
the sun laughing with the tides
understanding them.

Walking by seashore
seagulls sand and suddenly
plants on mossy rocks.
-Carlos Fleitas

Gusts of ocean wind
wander this deserted beach
drifting all to one.
-James W. Hackett

Shadows at the path.
We are drifting with this place,
the edge of the sun.

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