The clouds overhanging the horizon are the color of coal, and…
Below the ridges, dim and low,
the hollows and narrow valleys run,
and pools of water prove a stream
has been there once. Standing before
a pool like these, painted with leaves
dropped from the trees, I now believe
a mind conceived this place and thought,
it must be sunken down, and save
the birds and wind and other sounds
belonging to it, it must be quiet.
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