Saturday, July 29, 2017

5.25.17 In the passing of the day

In the wiping of the counter
In the making of a bed
In the turning in,to sleep, alone
amongst stories from books read

By the silent walk with the dog
along fields with birdsong thick
By the Swallow-swept skies above
gathering to them swarms of insects

Some of us live on high seas
Some spend our lives in cities
When years are filled with others
Time alone is no pity

Image may contain: one or more people

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