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I wake to the bells calling Vigils and remember
Mornings my father passed through my room
On his way to milk
I pretended to be asleep knowing
I should rise and follow him
But instead lay listening
To him leaving
Following him in my mind
As he followed the cows in
The way I follow the monks now
Into the dark chapel
Thinking how the bells have pulled us all
Out of sleep gently the way
You pull a few flowers to keep them
From crowding other flowers
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