did it die in vain?
that breeze-shimmered
mountain aven
caught by cold frost,
paw hoof nail and snout
it’s beauty revealed only as reflection
-once as passing eye of eagle-
did it die in vain?
with no boxed name
given it
no prizes and portraits
no lamination
dissemination
fame
it’s tenderness it’s undoing
it’s tenderness it’s prize
it’s tenderness shared
with all that dies
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