Sometimes I let my body become
One large ear sitting in a chair
I try to hear how far out
Listening can stretch even to you
Past traffic and alarms and dogs
Out past where the trillium
Whisper under snow and the mouse
Emerges from his hole to find
The white owl waiting
Soundless wings to take him
Out past fear and longing
Until hearing itself becomes
A kind of singing along
To an orchestra of stars
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