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Saturday, August 28, 2010


Upon the hills that roll up to the sky
there lies a lone and steadfast aspen tree.
Come fall, the leaves glint gold and mutely fly
alighting on the rippling grassy sea.
With envy have I wished to be that free,
to voyage recklessly upon the air;
But never could I steer my destiny –
that endless flight would quickly bring despair.

Oh, what an empty life to live and share,
a one of many empty clones.
Then what a joy to be that tree up there;
But what unhappiness to be alone,
so mighty, yet forlorn upon the hill –

How better yet to be a human still!

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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!