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White Pebbles

Hurrying past me are white pebbles

Falling and piling

Like collected sticks of a beaver

Closing on the gap makes me recall

The work of a weaver

I notice they are formed like seeds on a flap

But do we even bother to take it to a lab?

Why are they not planted by farmers?

Indeed we are duplicating the creator

Sowing seeds for rain

Seeding for crystals

Seeding to control tornadoes

Hurricanes and the like

To what extent,do we get to

With our hard strike

If they cannot stop the high ride

Of white pebbles dropping from the skies

Sure to reach us duly as pikes

Which are seasonally guaranteed with a hike



A mathematician, poet and avid reader. Also simple, gregarious and mysterious...

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