I’ve been in the arena enough to know
my lines. when it came my turn — our turn —
we sang show a little faith there’s magic
in the night — and then cheered as though
we wrote the words or at least made them famous . . .

two nights later I was cooking a birthday
dinner while I watched eight or nine people
spend the evening being friends
serving stories to one another infused
with laughter and what it means to be known . . .

here’s one of me walking around town
sunday afternoon through the middle of
our earth day celebration, alongside of people
determined to find ways to be together
as though we were made for it . . .

I can see my reflection in the window
that looks over the backyard as I write
now late into the night. the house is quiet.
the pups have given up on my going to bed.
I’ve given up on nothing . . .



  1. & i’ve determined, at this point in time
    that it might just be *my* turn — my rhyme
    & reason might be difficult to discern,
    but when i turn & look
    into a similar windowed reflection,
    i think of you, Milton — we’re both awake
    at this late hour, & i take solace in
    knowing that a kindred spirit is out there.

    thanks, Milton — it means more than you know.

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