A Thousand Syllables
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I saw your handprint in the snow on the gate to the churchyard,
I followed your footprints on the path,
Under the yew I saw a frozen dewdrop spider's web,
And percolating through the boughs and branches:

A thousand syllables of silver bird song.
And through the blankets of the falling snow,
Like a single zero on a blank page,
I saw a wreath upon your grave.

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