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CCXVIII
Cezanne's House & Trees
I caught a glimpse of a regret

& she was flying by
above the sunset

like a butterfly
so frail in her flight

it's hard to explain the heights
her wanderings attain, as she goes

astride the rainbow at its apogee
over the wake of Might

exercising her Power never
to correct its bent-up Sight

riveting into forever!

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