Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Winter Light



The sun is setting. The moon is fading. I heard a bird singing, saying,
and your face is in shadow,
but the hawk I like was quiet, on a branch, almost hidden in the middle of a tree,
and winter on the ground, 
it becomes a light, lightness, life, even on a horizon
carry it on a shoulder, 
take it home.

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