Monday, January 27, 2020


Wide to the sky, thrown open
To the day, to anyone—
Who wants to take an idea?

This morning, I watched the sun
Destroy something delicate,
An accidental sculpture

Of lacy ice projecting
From old snow into the dawn,
Prettily formed, quickly gone.

Don’t you mourn. Or, if you must,
Embrace memory mourning
What loss created loss lost,

Wide to the sky, thrown open,
The same sunlight making us
Taking us, mysterious.

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