| It took dog days and years
|
| To catch a moment when it’s here
|
| And that the hay bales just might
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| Be mostly made of light
|
| And that leaves can fall like shining golden coins
|
| I can feel it in the hollow spaces
|
| In the quiet places
|
| Where the light comes down
|
| I can see it in strangers faces
|
| In the lines and traces
|
| On the winter ground
|
| Where the light comes down
|
| It took awhile before I saw
|
| That the world is mostly made of ache and awe
|
| And that some night hum with sound
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| And sometimes silence is a noun
|
| And that dust and snow can swirl like falling scarves
|
| I can feel it in the hollow spaces
|
| In the quiet places
|
| Where the light comes down
|
| I can see it in strangers faces
|
| In the lines and traces
|
| On the winter ground
|
| Where the light comes down
|
| Ashes fall and waters rise
|
| Season change before our eyes
|
| It took awhile to finally know
|
| That a luna moth will quickly come and go
|
| And that distraction is a thief
|
| Of all that’s shining and brief
|
| Gone in a brilliant startle of wings |