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Snow by Ruth Miller

Today three years ago, snow fell In a tropical area, in a season Of growth, for spring was nearly here. Uninured to streams of scarlet blossom Blanketed and cosseted, we […]

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There are Wounds by Ruth Miller

Written on wind or water Word is flesh. Soon or later Flesh must speak in tones So dark they pierce the skin. Stigmata are not revealed At such times: There […]