Where once we needed to name
The nomenclature of nature,
Delineating fir from pine from spruce,
Where at a glance the dance
Of prairie grass denoted
Breeze from gust from simple wind,
Where we searched the clouds for clues,
The cumulus, cirrus, ominous walls,
Telling us all we needed to love or fear,
Where even then we envied the silent,
Those few who knew the secret codes
That made them quiet together,
Like pines blown by wind under clouds.
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