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  • The murmuration of soft spoken voices over fences
    The soft close vibration of the white green winged sulphur
    The tonation of the trained musician who knows the air is a bent accordion with wings, too, the acoustical pleasure of mumbled voices with no content

    Easy easy ease full eased in

    Is life a stranger to itself?

    Miniature crawlers so silent in droves out of the soil
    Life is at home on the sound waves
    It is us, we make ourselves strangers to our own habitats

    But here we be
    Singular in multiplicity coming out of silent fertility
    Looking for a sweaty hand of salt

    To perch and natter


    (Photo by Susan, this morning July 9 2015, Caladium in the garden)
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