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AN HOUR

by William M. Peaster

Upon a great mountain’s summit,
silent words were spoken to my heart:
do not hear

let the sky spread against you
let one year pass westward in the span
of an hour;

see the dots of fire in the valleys flowering
see the world that is a morning dream

sing the song
your grandmother sang when
you were young—

[You can find "An Hour" and 150 similar poems in my recently published volume of poems, Phantastikon].