Are humming to themselves, which means
The power is on. The world runs.
There’s plenty of work to be done,
As in most quiet locations.
A moment’s a moment’s ration
In which tiny events accrue,
And the world keeps becoming new
By adding to old happenings.
You lie with your imaginings
Until enough’s built up and you must
Move. Someone’s bound to interrupt
Your quiet moment anyway.
Frost’s gone. Still dawn goes down to day.
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