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Jul 2017
It was cold.
Night.
January, I think.
I was wearing long underwear.
I went to the reservoir and played my recorder.
  
A hope I'd been hoping was done.
  
I played for the trees and the fish.
Quiet songs.
They eased my heart.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_014_res_n.MP3 .
Lucius Furius
Written by
Lucius Furius  67/M/Evanston, IL
(67/M/Evanston, IL)   
306
 
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