Gary L. Whited, Ph.D.
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Note to Parmenides

One day the sun was shining
and I rode my father’s white horse

across the wide summer pasture.
It must be that maidens of the sun guided me

for when I rode to the round wooden water tank
just before the mare’s muzzle rippled the surface

I felt the perfection of still water
settle into my belly

and for a moment
nothing moved.

Then I listened as each swallow
passed down her long gullet.

When the water stilled again
we turned to leave.

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