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The path was purple in the dusk.
I saw an owl, perched,
on a branch.

And when the owl stirred, a fine dust
fell from its wings. I was
silent then. And felt

the owl quaver. And at dawn, waking,
the path was green in the
May light.

Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 26 May 2012 4:49 PM | Viewed: 5841 times

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