I see pretty much the same scene
each morning nuanced by seasons
that know what they know about being what
they are in their allotted time given.
And yet
what arrives day after day
from inside me causes me to pause
and feel how contemplation done -- even
half-assed as I do it -- reveals,
enters into
"the thing itself"
in ways I can only follow never
lead nor want to replying
to "Follow me" with "Yes."
Which begs
the question, "How long can this last?"
and I hear, "Forever is just a short
time for now." and think I feel a smile,
see the silhouette of a bow.
-Byron Hoot
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