to be verseless in the morning
in a sacramento sunrise
is to be voiceless in a choir.
the great conductor rises
and taps his baton
on the sierra nevada:
and the steam sings,
and the plain sings,
and the sky sings,
and i am silent:
without a tune. the curve
of hills and endless mist
are the mute in my mouth.
that fox there has my voice instead:
ask him.














Comments
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"Simplicity don't need to be greased." - Billie Joe Shaver
Have you seen the sunsets around here lately? I was just stunned by color last week, day after day.
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