I Don’t Know Where I Was or When I Wrote This Poem

Waking up,
stirring slightly

Eyes closed,
ears open

Deploying feelers,
sweeping the area

Birds,
so many birds of so many species
Twinkling within the void,
like dew on a spider’s web

Or, like
a John Field nocturne.

Crystalline, dazzling, radiance.

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