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From The Long Sad Party

 Someone was saying
something about shadows covering the field, about
how things pass, how one sleeps towards morning
and the morning goes.
Someone was saying how the wind dies down but comes back, how shells are the coffins of wind but the weather continues.
It was a long night and someone said something about the moon shedding its white on the cold field, that there was nothing ahead but more of the same.
Someone mentioned a city she had been in before the war, a room with two candles against a wall, someone dancing, someone watching.
We begin to believe the night would not end.
Someone was saying the music was over and no one had noticed.
Then someone said something about the planets, about the stars, how small they were, how far away.

Poem by Mark Strand
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