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Sharon Thesen
OLD LETTERS
Old letters lay quiet as folded cloth
in the place I put them not thinking I’d ever be old
& would walk along a deer path
with new friends at dusk, leaf mold
an incense, quietness over the hills
& even with the hockey game on the room was quiet
& nothing could make enough noise to bend the quietness
for long, the down-pressed quietness of
house systems operating in pleasant layers of hum.
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