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Silent Growth

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Birds come and go
but they never acknowledge me.
They lay their nests
deep within the thickness,
protecting their babies from
outside intruders and prying pudgy fingers
but they never acknowledge me.

When I was younger
I looked older with my branches and leaves grown out,
untamed. I was wise, scholarly.
But now people look with disgust
at the numerous things that have gotten stuck over the years-
pieces of gum, last night's gravy, fragments of the past.
as my beard grows on,
so does the quiet.
Neither acknowledge me



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