In nearly three hours, the temperature
has risen three degrees. And in the last
minute, one. The duration of cold
and the elongation of warmth in early
fall makes me feel as if I’m in a meditation
hall of autumnal splendor, the voice
out of the whirlwind whispering.
Me smiling at the koans I can never
solve but still say, “Another, please.”
The frost melting in front of me.
-Byron Hoot
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