for Twiglet #7:  a holiday morning

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The Twiglets: #7


King Day Morning Dense Low-Lying Fog

But I’ve come to accept
ridges, trees, creeks conspire to exhale
a visible stillness.

All night in the luminous world
I am, a moment at a time,
between cotton and pearl.

***
Morning thinned a space,
separated cloud from ground fog.
The present came to reach beyond
the front porch rail. Gray grass turned tan;
there were patches of henbit,
and chickweed so green January and all but
the Spring-flavored heel of February
might have given way.

***

It is impossible
for me to avoid the myths and fictions
of calendars and properties. The world
has no beauty, caprice, or cruelty
that I (we) don’t construct over it.
On this day set aside
to hold memories of a man and encourage
the living to continue his work,
when the fog lifted I saw a deer,
dead in the gray-brown grass
where my driveway enters our road.

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4 Comments

    1. hmmm.
      I was afraid of that. Means I over-weighted the beginning. The dead deer (which is a long story) ought to be at least equal to the fog. This was a hard one. I may need to let the opening stand on its own and re-think how to approach the rest.

      Thanks

      Liked by 1 person

  1. The first stanza is positive — hopeful. The deer in the last stanza seems to negate the hope; even the hope of a man celebrated for forging peaceful resistance like MLK.

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