
WE ARE GATHERERS,
THE ONES WHO PICK UP STICKS AND STONES
AND OLD WASPS NESTS FALLEN BY THE
DOOR OF THE BARN.
WALNUTS WITH HOLES THAT LOOK LIKE EYES OF OWLS,
BIT OF SHELLS NOT WHOLE BUT LOVELY
IN THEIR BROKENNESS.
WE ARE THE ONES WHO BRING HOME
EMPTY EGGS OF BIRDS
AND PLACE THEM ON A SMALL GLASS SHELF,
TO KEEP FOR WHAT? HOW LONG?
IT MATTERS NOT. WHAT MATTERS
IS THE GATHERING.
THE POCKETS FILLED WITH REMNANTS
OF A DAY EVAPORATED, THE TRACES OF
A CERTAIN MEMORY, A LINGERING SMELL,
A SMILE THAT CAME WITH THE SHELL.
- UNKNOWN
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