I’m more inured to the risks of flight
than the perils of digging in,
Exhibit A: the construction pit
being filled with light rain,
they’ll have to pump it
clear again. I dreamed we
were buying tickets
to anywhere,
found this great place on the coast–
It’s really winter here, now,
the sky the color of pavement,
even the birds are bailing out–
What a gift, what a gift to have
wings, but also to lack
the capacity for
digging holes
OPTIONAL POETRY 
Very contemplative and thought-provoking.
LikeLike
Thank you, Claire!
LikeLiked by 1 person
you are so good, C; ‘the sky the color of pavement’; and you always close the circle no matter how angular it may begin
LikeLike
Or, there’s not post that day…
LikeLike