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Poems of a Feather

Two Solitudes

(``Love consists in this: that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.'' Rainer Maria Rilke)

From the leaf-torn tip

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of the poplar through

the threads of the wind

the storm thrush weaves

a saraband

of crimson sound

to throat between

the threshing trees

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out to a distant

privet hedge

to where a little

hen thrush

listens listens

to throat back a blue

saraband for his

crimson across

the wild air.

In the loom of the wind

the two songs touch

each other now. . . .

Solitudes

know no loneliness.