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What the woods were like when
you and I, younger,
walked our way
into quiet, another
kind of time, when
birds sang from the
trees. Owl, osprey, bald
eagle or fox, crossing
the ice, deer, otter, spots
of sunshine where
mushrooms lift, or
hemlock, pine duff,
under beech, lady slipper and
luna moth, without

   New Chimney Farm Bedtime Stories



fear of what was
here, now, we
wander new roads, our
hearts broken no
feathers in our hands.

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Gary Lawless   
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