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The Hoofs of Pegasus

SILENCE

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WE are still; There are no words. Across the sky A wedge of birds Flies northward. Brown and thinned, A brittle leaf rasps in the wind. The sun creeps on from tree to tree. We are still. Were a word spoken, Like a troubled pool Is silence broken. Better far be dumb. There are depths no stone could plumb; Circles widen endlessly.

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