I
poets work at night when the weather does not urge on them,
silent when the noise of the crowd and ends
the lynching of hours.
poets working in the dark as night hawks or the sweet singing nightingales
and fear to offend God.
But the poets, in their silence
make much noise
a golden dome of stars. Alda Merini
poets work at night when the weather does not urge on them,
silent when the noise of the crowd and ends
the lynching of hours.
poets working in the dark as night hawks or the sweet singing nightingales
and fear to offend God.
But the poets, in their silence
make much noise
a golden dome of stars.
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