Porch Poem in These titles mean nothing.

  • March 11, 2021, 9:38 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

The Prow of a ship
The End of the world
The year, the day advance
And I with them.

My breath is caught
The way home is easy
I am grateful for all
I have, I am, I know.

Today is the end of was
The beginning of will be
My perch is precarious
But I hang on tight.


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