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Emptied of Their Choir

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The wind has lost its tongue
of Autumn’s golden leaves
now only a cold breath

Trees stand as cathedrals
like skeletons in silence
emptied of their choir

Now roots, neath the frost
as ginseng hums a homily
to whisper back the light

Embracing scent of the pines
stitches of the dark to dawn
as snow falls like silk

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