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  • What if,
    on a summer afternoon,
    the wind swept down
    through the pines and fields
    along roads and ways;
    like a wave along the shore,
    taking up and carrying
    all the scattered sounds:
    Car doors and radios
    TV dramas,
    clanks and creaks and grumblings,
    laughter, calls, and chatter,
    cries of rage and anguish,
    all the posturing and threats,
    all the pitches and promises,
    the tramp of booted feet, the crowd,s shuffle mutter,
    all of them,
    and left behind
    a sheet of silence
    smooth and sifted as fresh washed sand.
    Would we listen then?
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