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Vermont - spring

Walking in spring never far from the sound of rushing water,

I came to a clearing

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in the woods.

A silver birch stood

with me


A woodpecker beat time,


with my pounding heart,

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and, in a marshy pond

swollen with liquid snows,

something small, unseen,

broke the surface

to breathe the air.

Back in the brittle city,

where voice and corners

are sharp,

the surfaces concrete-hard -

important -

and silence is a memory,

something small, unseen

within me

breaks the surface

to breathe the wooded air.

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