laudate

miles and miles of rainy road
roll before me like Venetian canals

I have nothing but choices:
how to steer, how to think in the clouds.

laudate, how to praise.

highway medians and swollen plains
lie bunched and spongy, receiving all that falls.
I pause- – – to teach myself trust

in the green-soaked evening
I make my own happiness

and I become the blackbird at rest
sitting in a tree with closed wings,
dripping wet songs

receiving all that falls.

damp pines

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