"An absolute
patience. Trees stand
up to their knees in
fog. The fog slowly flows
uphill. White cobwebs, the grass
leaning where deer
have looked for apples.
The woods from brook to where
the top of the hill looks
over the fog, send up
not one bird.
So absolute, it is no other than
happiness itself, a breathing
too quiet to hear."
- Denise Levertov, The Breathing
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