Monday, March 14, 2016


I sit
On the wind-swept plains
As the sun has risen
And the rain of the day before
Remains in beads and puddles
And the small stream still flowing down the road
To some culvert nearby

I will not long do so

There is little for me here
And that will not be here much later
A couple cycles of light and dark in the night
A couple missed chances to be a father again
And it will be gone

So will I

But I know where I will go
And how I will get there
Even if what I will do once there
Is yet unclear

Some direction is better than none
And I have some
At least

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