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Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Each Port

Let’s begin again, at the end.

From the window, watching you

twirl into existence.

The pup chasing the bees

chasing the shadows, trees.

Urgent blooming

spun back like glass

crunch sealed, ice packed

the wind curling

into the corners.

Pipes grind to a halt

dry leaves tumbling all at once

the dark day, the blue morning

dusk comes quickly,

Ginko now bare.

A stunned rose bloomed

right here in late October,

we are saying goodbye.

Now the luxuriant rolling valley,

willow bowing into the creek

the long stretch of promise

algae on the pond, goose shit

milkweed wishes, sticky pickers and blazing

the sun

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