Sunday, September 30, 2007

out the window

Out there, through dark cedar panes:
A tree with a twig and a soft
everpresent wind. Maybe there
is a bee or squirrel at a flower,
but everything else is the same.

Through a broken hole in the broken blind:
A man runs with his head as a gazelle might.
I never see the lion,
but if there is one, I doubt it will catch up at this point.

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