308 Readings

Each Decision Was One Not Made In Time

Toward the end the springtimes accelerated, 
with days crystalline and mad winds and clouds 

aching above us as we shouted to each other
across new shorelines and again newer shorelines

each morning, calling to friends till we found
them backing down the mud roads, dragging

doors with them, or chairs, or a young apple tree
in a pot, rosy blooms dropping, and what we 

missed most was stillness as the sea advanced
and we retreated, waves ourselves, waiting for

the sky to wing apart, waiting to leave our trace

Posted 06/01/17
Published June 2013 in Tupelo Press's 30/30 Project.
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