The Chinese Peaks

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by Robert Bly
   For Donald Hall
I love the mountain peak
but I know also its rolling
foothills
half-invisible
in mist and fog.
The Seafarer gets up
long before dawn to read.
His soul
is a whale feeding
on the Holy Word.
The soul who loves the peak
also inhales the deep
breath rising
from the mountain
buried in mist.

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