with double lines, as when you write
with broken chalk, where two edges
touch down at once,
my words over my words,
my thoughts looped back,
noticing the echoes
I don't want to do it often -
it has a graying effect,
like much-used blackboards,
or like checking my phone
far too many times
The afternoon is not like that -
each sun-touched fir and fern
floods itself with presence -
no thoughts of past or checking for the future,
taking in each golden ray of now.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2021
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