Wednesday, July 17, 2019


Bright sunlight on plain objects
Is the most comforting grace,
The closest to forgiveness
From the ordinary world.

Sun’s on the skin of your hand
Resting lightly on the wheel
Of the abandoned
Vehicle parked in the trees

That shadow the anyhow
Creek rushing down to the lake
Because that’s all it can do,
By rule, the sun, shine on you.

For we are free of all laws
And slaves to making new ones.

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