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| Full moon over Upper Turkeyfoot |
Not much is moving
but the road under us
and the blur of our wheels,
the sun down and the moon rising
through the Belt of Venus
in the banded east.
We stop on a hilltop
in a windless silence.
Not much is moving
but the blood in our veins,
the rush of ourselves,
the universal hum.
In the year's first week,
it is that quiet.
But, oh, the torrent internal.
