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Driving through Sudbury
                 at midnight,
  by the old church steeples,
             beneath a hunter’s moon,
I saw,

             spectral-like, the ancient
    graveyard spread out before
me, so blue and luminescent,

   and I thought of Thankful, and
Jabez, and Puffy’s other relatives
        there, sleeping the sleep of

and between heart beats
                 murmured softly
    this prayer,

                                        “Not yet.”

October 14, 2000