Sheep in Fog
The hills steep off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I have disappointed them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the color of rust
Hooves, dolorous bells--
All morning the
Morning has been blackening.
A flower left out.
My bones hold the stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
To let me through to heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
.:sylvia plath:.
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