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Blue and Black
Among a cradle of leaves
A frog sits facing away from me.
Green leaves, touched with faint morning dew.
The brook by the side is dry.
A butterfly flitters, faint beats of the wing
Ruffle the leaves.
No flowers, no drip of water drops.
Even the wind is still.
I peer among the bushes
Vainly for a glimpse of a damselfly
Blue and black, who should be here.
I, the man, who beat everything
Blue and black.