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Monday, August 22, 2005

a blackbird singing - a poem

To my untutored traffic-tuned ear

silence swims in the trees and all sounds cease.

The ripe void wraps itself around me

and I stand listening, silent, as the stained air

unfolds, filling emptiness with a floating

melody. A blackbird’s melancholy

liquid notes pour falling like a luxury.

Its voice, a vibrant instrument of virtue,

spills simply into the soft summer evening,

offering its honesty as a gift.

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