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The Secret
They cannot know a secret that I know,
The city dwellers with their leaden eyes,
Caught like a leaf in traffic’s ebb and flow,
Deafened by all a city’s raucous cries;
They cannot know it in the canyons there
Where steel and stone deflect a mortal’s stare.
For I arose before the moon went down,
Half-way toward morning. Dew-wet lay the world,
And, in the sunrise, brighter than the town.
Deep in the valley’s hush I found uncurled
A bloodroot flower; I touched it with my hand,
And I alone know spring is on the land.