Andrew Wyeth. Crescent Moon.1979 :: [Mihail Dvoeglazov]
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“Now I feel nothing but her stream away the way she does, dead slow and fast as light like a galaxy that leaves behind one spark too low and dull to catch her silent drift; though somewhere out there in my turning dark they know each sunrise falling like a lift and white curve of her arm gone from the night.”
— Don Paterson, from “A Vow,” 40 Sonnets (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2017)













