Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Kentucky: Doves

The mourning doves
trail me
from San Francisco
and haunt
with woodwind notes.

I've lived long
been moved, met
known sorrow, lost,
been taught, atoned. So

lose me, find me
follow me across
wide pools
plains and ranges,

calling: loss is gain,
truth fluid
that which sears,
which burns to keen
will lift to float
and cool you at the end.

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