July 5

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I had hoped to watch the sky
fill in with stars, particularly

the obscure ones
reserved for the backcountry

but fell asleep too early,
having spent all night waiting

for night to fall. Even late,
the mountains glowed,

echoing the Northern sun
ringing out across the old

burn zone, new brush rallying
up dry avalanche chutes–

so very little snow this year.
Slowly, the lake receded

into suggestion; an owl
called lowly, both begging

the question. To have
is the first true

prerequisite for want.
The second,

loss.
I saw three stars only

before I slept,
but at three, woke

to a cacophony of light–
the nearly-full moon,

a host of constellations,
such a loud, glad return,

and almost making
an absence tolerable–

10 Comments

  1. fruchtzwerg's avatar

    I totally love your poems…they’re truly breathtaking. I’m just getting started maybe you could come over to my page. It would mean a lot if you as such a talented person could do that. Keep going because I’m not the only one enjoying your posts ❤

    Like

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