Moonset
By Carl Sandburg
Leaves of poplars pick Japanese prints against the west.
Moon sand on the canal doubles the changing pictures.
The moon's good-by ends pictures.
The west is empty. All else is empty. No moon-talk at all now.
Only dark listening to dark.
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My Friday was just as social as my Thursday. I met an old acquaintance at lunchtime to hand off some Space: 1999 stuff I thought she might want, stopped at the post office to mail eBay stuff, took a walk with Paul
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