Thursday, August 26, 2021

overhearing


reaching in the way of breath
souls out as though flying
starting as newness does

language bends us to light
tethered to our affections
pointed as our engines 

it's crowded in the big sky,
friends--we have: planes, 
birds, satellites, choices

when it's so hard to listen 
what shall we do, indeed
for our use... for our ease



Pic: Late summer garden

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