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24.v.23
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I observe
the late
light
far snows
tracks that
melt away
and the
voices
each a
language
just as well
the voiceless
deer thud
pine cone
crunch
fearful I am
little
coiled snake
must step
aside
here’s
beetle
having known
only this height
wider of
world than me
up puff
so self
heart in its
telling too
almost heard
it’s just
where I ask
why should
the little world be less?
I bend to
get the picture
a March fly
buzz by late in May
lean back –
take in such sky
reach what
must do for a platform
pause
it means
much that you’re with me
and so I now
declaim
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