They dock to cower
In sixth sense
To void the hovering hawk
With the silver teeth
And right after the break
Lightens took a seat
In beams of good rest
To usher the struggle
Of those beneath man
Sometimes in April
A job for the crag
For roofless souls
Even in winters might
Prepared for the rabbits
Within their shining eyes
From the potters chase
Like cobras dive
In a crawlers dome
To elope the danger
By divers species
Which survives the ark?
But leaved in circuit
Within the worries
Just by fate
To graze a land
When the mountain
Shelters their suckling’s


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