I worried about all the words I had lost.
I’ll never write again, I said.
And then, in the gaping space where
the lexicon had lived like a city,
weather came, forces of a subtler velocity
shaping the space, excavating then seeding.
And now the new land is being populated
by simple creatures.
Beautiful, wild, skittish cubs.
I love them.
I resist the urge to chase them.
We can all live here together.
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