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Symphonies

The owls hum to the moon
and the trees dance for the stars
in a symphony of nothing that really matters.
I doubt the moon or the stars care, or
really watch and listen;
and I’m almost certain they
never applaud or give any sort of praise.
But still the owls hum and
the trees dance for an ungrateful audience,
trying to be a part of this world.





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