The deeper we walked into the dark wood

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 The deeper we walked into the dark wood
the more distant, the car buzz-sawing
the perimeters, the more the forest
sounds came. The crickets came in soft
crisp wooden lisps and cicadas shrilled
out from deep within their hollowness
and the bulls of the lake reached down
deep and bellowed out the last chords
of their massive loneliness, a leaping
fish makes circles on the surface
of the sound and then we heard nothing,
nothing save the sounds of the glassy
spheres whistling in their orbits.
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