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Water Poem

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Uploaded on Oct 17, 2008

We don't stay still enough to hear. We've forgotten the sound of silence. The hum of bugs comes to us only too infrequently. How often does one sit for the crickets to begin to play; or wait for the flies to either send one upon their way, or even longer, for the breeze to send them on their way.

The layers, while one is sitting, trickle from one sensory space to another.

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