Due

April 10, 2009

I fear I forget that the frail,

nearly unable, but

when a whisper of will,…

when they muster an incalcuable

measure of Reach

to straighten, and lean up

for what’s due.

That’s alot to wait for

 

The Freshest thing in the clearing

by the pond’s sunk boat,

near a nest, There’s this ringing

drop, possibly just now dotted

one leaf, left just new

by the dew

That’s what I wait for

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