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Old age is
a flight of small
cheeping birds
skimming
bare trees
above a snow glaze.
Gaining and failing
they are buffeted
by a dark wind—
But what?
On harsh weedstalks
the flock has rested—
the snow
is covered with broken
seed husks
and the wind tempered
with a shrill
piping of plenty.

Added: 1 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 21 Nov 2009 11:17 PM | Viewed: 6807 times

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