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When I was small

my mother took me

to hear the stars.

She walked me to the center

of the meadow,

told me to close my eyes—

Listen.

 

Listen to the sounds

horses make when they dream,

to the chuck whistle

of the chuck-wills-widows

in the fencerow.

 

Listen to the coyotes sing

far off,

answers to a train

further off.

 

Listen to the sound the stars make

when they hang so low

they bump into

one another.

 

Listen to the music of their

midnight apologies

for hanging too near the earth—

for crowding the sky.

 

 

 

Jennifer deBie is an MA in Creative Writing student at University College Cork in Cork, Ireland. She is also a recent graduate of Angelo State University, a native Texan, and an aspiring poet, novelist, short story-ist, and general scribbler. Her work has appeared in Sound Historian, Quarryman, and will soon appear in Apricity literary journal.

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