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Under Gaze
I sit in the cool shade of the tree I park under at work. I’m probably foolish, but it seems to me that the leaves are moving in deliberate patterns, that the tree is gesturing to me with its arms, that my presence is not unnoticed, nor is it unimportant. I think about taking a nap, but a mockingbird wants to talk. I sit with my chin in my palm and listen to my own self. This is the biggest responsibility I’ve ever taken on, the biggest risk, this looming thing. Think I can do it? Guess I have to try. Are You going to help me any? Reckon You…
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Seasons Of Life
Things have shifted, and now I am detaching from some things and moving towards some new ones. A time of nervous stomachs and pleasant anticipation, a period of feeling overwhelmed and unprepared, a stretch of unsettled hours, of feeling my age, of pushing out again into the waters of hope, watching the clouds and the horizon. It’s lighter in the mornings now, and I see the bicyclist on the shoulder of the road each day on the way to work. I lift my hand and breathe a blessing and a prayer, and as always, I wonder where he is going and what he does and how his day and his…