poets praise and think their work is done

"with no distinction between contemplator and contemplated." Thich Nhat Hanh

Are you there? It is four in the morning. The wind's rolling through the windows. I am here.

How calm it can be in our bodies when we are busy. How at ease. Then the quiet comes and a pressure builds beneath the skin. And the end could be near. Near as here.

A song plays. I wish it was longer. I want to write the words as they sound being sung. But tonight's no time for quoting. The words I spoke yesterday spin in my head and I feel them as a presence. As solid things feel, as they are felt.

However long I have missed you, I am not missing you this morning. When I walked a mile in the early dawn, nor when I paused to think. It wasn't you I missed. But a dream I had. A dream where I was dancing. With a man I barely knew. Then. And now. To know someone at all is for them to desire knowing you.

I was going to see a play this weekend. But the rain has cancelled everything. The rain has brought me closer. Just when I thought I had forgot.

Abbi Dion

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