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SISTER CIRCLE
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Here they comeIn the morning, sleepy-eyed,Naked to cool desert breezes,Fragrant from their sleeping bagsAs the surrounding creosote flowers,Fresh as the tiny streamThat trickles through the sands,Young as sparks from last night's firesCrackling with their laughterThey talk girl talkAnd get serious to tears at timesThey are the women gathered in the morningHolding hands with sacred promiseDeeply in each other's eyesSearching with all purityLove is trembling in their breasts...Circling they danceSinging mother songsSoft yet strong.ThisWill never leave them... |
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