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There are days in June that seem to be December.
Thus sometimes the substance of this room
  or more accurately the people in it who pray silently
  start up in the midst of happiness and alter,
  bewitched by a murmur from the calm foliage.


Our hearts are shifting as the winds
  pliable as gold.


See this windless sail,
Almost before one feels the subtle breeze,
  it stirs up
  and slips away.