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If it only could happen, that during this pause, we listen (when humanity withdraws) to birdsong, quiet, the howl and the breeze, and know Earth as priceless, and everyone sees From moss, to fern, to loftiest pine the sinuous dance of the clambering vine the scaly, the shelled, the mushroom and mold, the bee and the salamander, fragile and cold. Could this be the day we find ourselves able to set down our plates, step away from the table The feasting is over, we’ve all had our fill and Life’s story, unfinished, flourishes still.
- Leah Jay