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the November ship
rising whites that whorl and snap
with hatches of wind and their silvered gap
this dove-egg blue enfolds the ship
battened by crest of such thawing grip
the ice melt sea who knew old days...
with hatches of wind and their silvered gap
this dove-egg blue enfolds the ship
battened by crest of such thawing grip
the ice melt sea who knew old days...
