Thomas Lowe Taylor -- UNTITLED

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What'd made sense earlier
gradually became clear

You were a nostrum on the saints
making less peculiar sounds again

The air rose willingly internal signs
marked the air around you less blue

but sensed the day's richness
in its possibilities later realized

nor in doubt lessened by trial
and the consequent purity

It's here in the sending out
you call the air against you

holding tight into morning
like a due, like a famous arc