I see Christs and Buddhas in the air. I was
not looking for them, and it should be a beatific
vision, right? But it is crowded in the yard,
like a happy gathering of linebackers in a too-small room.
With the heavies, I happen to be there, the runt,
just lucky to be here. Not a blade of grass
disturbed. Birds flew, the regal Black Phoebe
ate a fly.
-----
Dawn
Escondido
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