Is today the day to rise above
the wind to a windless forever?
They say the shadow of forever
is long and dark and incurable.
Maybe I’ll wise up before I float above
autumn blaze maple and honey locust
and the tattered gray clouds
that decline to come when I call.
Maybe I’ll stay put, anchored to
the mossy red brick of my familiar
patio, consort with chipmunk and
chickadee, thrive in the tender
shade of the sugarberry tree.
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