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Contributor: Richard Schnap

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I usually have trouble finding it
Close to the entrance up a gentle slope

That faces a small pool ringed by trees
Where flocks of sparrows gather in the spring.

There I look down at the weathered stones
With the empty space reserved for me

As the songs of the birds break the silence
That here in this place seems the greatest of all.

Then a soft wind caresses my cheek
As I search for a sign of what is to come

Finding a fallen yellow leaf
On the bed of earth that will someday be mine.

And as I wonder what meaning it has
I listen to the tolling of a distant bell

Turning to watch the birds take flight
Like tiny angels answering a call.

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Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.


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