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Back in a familiar place. My return here has already been wrought with issues that have put me on edge.  I’ll have to endure for a few weeks regardless. Surfing my archives, I realized it’s poetry month and I’d made no effort to honor the occasion. Here’s some old poetry to honor the changes my constant moving around brings about.

The End

All good things
Fragile from the beginning
Flourish, but eventually wither
Ticking down
A beautiful thing at its finish
Still glowing with life in its dimming
Ashes to ashes
Newness found in its dust
Something dewy from that finale
A breath exhaled
A breath inhaled
And time still rambles on

I like it when you talk to me

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