Of the cattle coming slow
Across the desert plain
Before the herdsman
With his son and mother
Bound
From the stream returning
Past the silence of the grinding mill
Turned off
A whisper in the air
To the fire
Those dotted fires
Spread out and rising
To the falling of the night
Pink to purple haze
Then dark…
This evokes a longing
It has wedded me
My heart to them forever
At home and quiet
This unified motion of grace
The smile upon their face
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