WEBVTT

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"Hope and Love."

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All winter the blue heron
slept among the horses.

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I do not know the
custom of herons,

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do not know if the solitary
habit is their way,

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or if he listened
for some missing one,

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not knowing even that was what
he did in the blowing sounds

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in the dark.

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I know that hope is the
hardest love we carry.

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He slept with his long neck
folded like a letter put away.

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