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Birds fly at night, too,

But we don’t see them.

They are tiny shadows flitting through deeper shadows,

Featherless, like fishes in a bottomless sea.

The night air and gleam of sprinkled starlight

Fuse my senses.

I think of the birds as leaves, directionless.

I can’t see them

And I don’t know where they are going.

But they know,

And the worms know,

And the twigs know,

And the dark sky knows.

In the dim light, as in the sun, I am a blind creature.

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