Poem: In the Garden

Earth, Earth, my Babylon,

Your cheeks are white and ruddy.

Filling your lap with children, soft you sing.

These trees are like the trees at home;

O Laurel bright, a sword between me and thee.

Within the gate, beside the sea,

A moment swallows itself, deserting time,

And from the start I’ve begged this cup to pass.

~Wanda Waterman

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