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  • Writer's pictureMarjorie Robertson

The White Fire of Time

Updated: Jan 12


The cell's honeycomb fragile as that of wasps,

Which hangs down midday under a branch of

Fresh laurel; Yes, only at home on this earth--

And as such makes as best it can its place in it;

And love, as it does, the things of the flesh.

From: The White Fire of Time by Ellen Hinsey

Chapter XVII.

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