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Thursday, March 23, 2017

A Final Moment (or two) of Doubt

The if not now when
That I hear now and again
Does that count
As being in
The present moment
I wonder

The same way
I hear the same bird
Singing
Over and over

I get carried away
All too easily
By the slightest
Suggestion of spring
With the bird
Still singing and
The sunlight strafing me
On a frigid March afternoon

Even the hollow sound
Of the neighborhood kids
Playing out of doors
And the car door slamming
Not so far away
Can't help but
Remind me of all
The warmer days
Soon to come

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