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By its cry a barn owl hunting
Awoke in me the glimmerdim,
And I felt the more alive
For its hunger and my own.
And come cold morning,
By the remnants of a rabbit,
I knew just where the owl had dined
Perched upon a locust limb.
What is the quality of life exactly?
To lie down in the comfort and the dream
Of a body against a body – yes,
Sensation is the satisfaction of an age.
I have heard a rabbit scream.
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