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Open Space and Quiet Folds

Roger Singer


With its eyes turned, the dark heard
nothing.Light breathing slipped under green boughs and thensettled onto leaves,
holding a positionof between . A subtle night supported  indifference toshade or
shadow or a valley of shades Not yet named,  as all the grays cooled over sand and
soil. Bound in the air like  prisoners chained,winds fill random corners, shaking
leaves and half formed webs while a silver moonengages its space.   

Late clouds sighed deeply under athe hands of a yellow sun,as day pressed forward to
dusk, clearing the tablefor night and its curtains of dark to silently descend.
Breezes dance without concern betweenarms of crooked branches.A silver moon, the eye
on open meadows,sheds release to paths now open. A balance of warm and cool air
hoversabove the dew and sleeping insects. Night is the tree without fruit, like a
homecleared of voices. Dawn arrives, chasing out evening shadows.

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