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Drafts, Poetry

Morning

There’s something NOSTALGIC
about waking up

a flower opening
a loaf of bread from the oven
a drop of dew evaporating
a light flickering on
a day
the night
your breath before a small snore
candles becoming whole again
earth between your toes
castles towering from clouds
sleep receding
caution absent

remember: in this moment “before” and “after” unwind
until there is nothing more than be be be.

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