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By John I. Blair

O Spirits of the four directions,
Bless the sword and bless the fire,
Bless the wine and bless the bread,
Bless this Grove and those within,

Bless the children, unaware,
Who dance around our sandaled feet,
And boys who call at basketball
In the park beyond the fence.

These trees be not mossy-old,
Yet they have grown here long enough
To know the changes, generations,
Love and birth, death, life;

And this circle we have made
Marks the cycle of our days,
Our words the turning of the year,
Earth and planets, moon and stars.

2009 John I. Blair

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