I was, I think, a hurried man. To get to where and what my goal; A confidence, a worked-out plan, An inside-out, and fevered soul, When she November’s chalice brought For me to sip the honeyed wine I’d wanted, and through seasons sought, But that was hers, and never mine. She was, I see now, …
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“Death is just a season: spring turns to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. They may seem slow to come, or late, but they show up, and they always will. Like changing colors on the walls of a classroom; the seasons change, the colors change, …
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tangled fall and wind aslant should is shouldn’t, can is can’t up and moving, must away find the heart, forget the day clouds that beckon from the skies wind that laughs, and ground that cries soul that sorrow knows, and grows simple devastation mangled wall of former grief love is long, but life is brief …
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We call things ‘mixed’ as though they don’t belong together; this is strange. All that is belongs together, for here we are, together. Or maybe… We call them ‘mixed’ because they come from different places, but everything is from a different place from everything else — …
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Built for use: Tall weeds grow wild, and We forget