Havens (a poem)

In the millennium of a footstep are harbored

a thousand

beating

thoughts.

Like how girls ignore boys with

interested disinterest,

And shy smiles of unsure excitement!?

And how, really, blue’s monopoly of the sky is

simply a background for the gentle capillaries of green leaves.

But mostly, about how cradles are formed in the

projected day-shadows of the long-tipped swoosh

of your niece’s fingertips.

Later you will together farewell the seeds of a grandaddy dandelion.

With a-mortal eyes squeezed shut.

IWillBeSixty

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