Bittersweet & elusive,
Something that will not be held.
Something that simply IS,
(And is present)
And can be kept but faintly,
Cradled the mind’s eye.
A resounding cry
The echo of it
Haunts deep in the heart’s hallway.
This is something I keep
Both wishing it away
And desperate for it to stay.
And today
It smells faintly of sage scrub
And of morning fog that will be burned off
And of ground unkissed by rain
For the last three hundred sixty four days
But, it’s a reminder for praise,
This leaving & staying,
This exercise of the muscle
That pumps life into the rest of me
Creating this (bittersweet & elusive) something
That will not be held.
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