Sunday, February 9, 2020

What we have

What we have,
And what we have not.

These poems are fairly worthless; a house
Made of twigs, mud, and thistles.

The good comes, perhaps, from building them,
More than from their use; an exercise for the spirit.

So take them a grain of salt.
I am only a human, after all.


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One by one, the campfires