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So much we take for granted:
the slow turn of summer
sun sparking the dust into motion,
the silent unassuming books
waiting the entire day
for one brief, distracted glance,
the tail end of a comet
stirred calmly into your morning
coffee, then gone again.
That drab painting hanging
for decades in a musty basement
before anyone notices
the small, slanted house
clinging to the edge of the landscape,
the thumbnail-sized shadow
of a family walking slowly away.