When the flute players
couldn’t think of what to say next
couldn’t think of what to say next
they laid down their pipes,
then they lay down themselves
beside the river
then they lay down themselves
beside the river
and just listened.
Some of them, after awhile,
jumped up
and disappeared back inside the busy town.
But the rest —
so quiet, not even thoughtful —
are still there,
Some of them, after awhile,
jumped up
and disappeared back inside the busy town.
But the rest —
so quiet, not even thoughtful —
are still there,
still listening.
by Mary Oliver
published in Red Bird, Beacon Press
Photo by Stephane Therrien
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