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Prospect Park

Shielded by shade,

and plenty

 

innocuous in this big ol’ world,

such that this is any other moment.

 

The ones you have been chasing

are gone when you wake up,

 

and when you reach for it again

in the late afternoons,

 

it has already turned to night. 

Words perennially in your head

 

and hands

like memories

 

and flowers.  Standing there,

staring at the mossy lake,

 

cast in stillness

and light – from a brief canopy

 

in the middle of your life,

you know it,

 

in this moment

like any other, you know it,

 

because           when you look up,

you’re already down the beaten path

 

in another.

 

 

Posted 08/25/19
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