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Come, Love
by Wilda Morris

Come, Love, the green ribbon
of water has turned blue
and pink. We'll light
the sampan lantern, glide
from the shallows and float
on the mists of night.

Children have shaken
the last drops of Li River
from their cooled skin,
gone home for supper
of tea and rice.

Look, our neighbor walks the path
to his cottage with his basket.
The cormorant with which he fishes
sits his shoulder, dark wings folded.

Shadows are moving between crags
on Hidden Dragon Hill.
Sit close beside me as our little bark
snakes down the fabled river.
I'll tell you tales of old Guilin
as we slip into the darkness.


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