day 23
the uncertain past
escapes us, a laughng child
on a bicycle
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certain memories
tall trees sprung from the soil of
the uncertain past
as light as the wind
that finds its way past closed doors:
certain memories
I ask the morning,
“Are we doomed, or is there hope?”
The sky answers, “Blue”
bridge crossings: your car
a slow-moving speck across
an immense landscape
spacecraft descending?
spotlight thrown against the clouds?
the moon’s veiled glow!