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People of the Sun
We people of the Sun
grow the corn
shine with the sun
see beginnings
what we have done.
Seasons of plenty
we know by light
we know warm days
and no harm.
Daughter of the Moon
shows herself, laughing
a dance in water
a glow on leaves
a drop in hand.
Blanket of pale and silver
echo the land
vast, sharp
echo the stars
far, bright.
