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Quiet Days
Thom Satterlee (bio)

Our quiet days are numbered—
our unquiet ones are numberless.

The still, small voice of God...
who has heard it even once?

Down goes the mole blindly into darkness,
travelling through earth its body wide.

The fox in the hayfield
turns and runs for the woods,
stops far off and looks back.

Who will clear the world of its noise
without making a single sound?

Who will bring us the words
that turn words into silence?

Our quiet days are numbered—
but our unquiet ones are numberless.

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