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Wallace Stevens

There was still snow
but when I woke the tree beside the river
had sprouted birds
not like in summer when the leaves blot out the sky
but to hear them
it was like that
their sound had taken the shape
of a tree in full plumage

they were telling stories about
the earth from five thousand feet
storms over texas
hawks in kentucky
the ones that fell from the sky
how glad they were to see old friends
how hungry they were
their tired wings
their tired wings

when they left
it was like turning a page
in the collected works
of wallace stevens

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