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by Ashley Wagner

Making Waves

Confession: on days when I feel
very small, I’ve found a new love
in eavesdropping. On walks,
I often listen in
on the river’s conversation
with the rocks, the sandpipers
shouting directions into the cloudless
air as they begin their trip to winter
down on the Georgia coast.
Lately, I have been so quiet
I’ve nearly forgotten I exist.
That each name we sing is the name
of eternity, and when we gaze
upon the keen eye of the rabbit,
statuesque if not for the panic of breath,
we are the universe both in awe
of itself and in fear
of what we may do

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