falling back

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what we saved in daylight
by falling back appears

to be nothing more than
the stealing of afternoon

light to shore up the dawn
the babies and chickens

aren’t fooled even though
the days roll by like

an old tire out of round
we think we have fixed

something and can’t see
what we lost in exchange

the antique glow of
autumn evening light

turns time into a thin place
etches memories on the glass

of our fragile finitude
we shall not be here long

and yet — we spend time
turning back the clock

 

Peace,

Milton

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