D U E

November 26, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

I fear I forget that  the frail,

nearly unable, but

when from a whisper of will,…

when they muster an incalculable

measure of Reach

to straighten, and lean up

for what’s due

That’s a lot to wait for

,

The  freshest  thing in the clearing

by the pond’s sunk boat,

near a nest, There’s this ringing

drop, I thought,   just now  dotting

one leaf, left,  just new

by the dew

That’s what I wait for

       

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