morning poem, april 20, 2016

I was very young and knew not how
I landed in that golden place
The work of generations
Pure gift to me
At eight a.m. a pledge and prayer
And then a moment’s rest

My desk stood in a corner there
Beside the eastern window
And I took the winter radiance
In quiet meditation.

Then I looked out upon the day
And saw men moving in the town
The oaks and maples making shade
Trucks and taxis going round

copyright 2016

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