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I like the days that follow easy as ceiling fan blades, guiding warm air into gravity’s arms, and that way we find and turn each other. Days when, though I’d welcome company, I’m content as a heron alone on a log, one leg tucked up while meditating over a pond of fish and summer wine. At any moment, that heron might slowly unfold its miracle of flight, and stir the hypnotic tide of quiet surrounding us, until all we want is what Goethe called for with his dying breath “More light.”
Copyright 2022 Richard Levine