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Saturday, September 7, 2019

In the Empire of Rustling Leaves

for Diane Seuss

Here close to the center
Of the known world
I administer to an empire
Of rustling leaves

The world is wordless 
But far from silent
Alive with the music of things
The arpeggio of wind as it
Plays up and down the trunks
Of nearby oaks and elms
All the while conducted
By some sightless being

Of each acorn drop
The squirrels duly take note
Nature abhors nothing
Not even a vacuum
But chooses rather to fill it
With a harmony of
Ceaseless pings

Birds are not not-birds
Except when they tweet
Silence offers nothing but
Always comes complete
And the great awakening  
Is really no awakening at all
For although mind may be stilled
The world itself keeps singing

(not sure of the source of this great photo)

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