Thursday, March 24, 2011


He was still sleepy at seven a.m.,
struggling to stay awake,
when suddenly he saw
the white sky above his house.
It wasn’t a handsome sky
or a sky to sing under,
but it was where
it was supposed to be
and it was
the completely correct color.
He carefully lifted his hands.
The wrinkles were wonderful,
and the lamplight looked down
on the small hairs
with reborn brightness.    

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