Dana Rucinski


Autumn Rain

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints upon the snow.
I am the sunlight on a ripened grain and
I am the gentle autum rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am that swift up lifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circled flight.

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