Tuesday, April 18, 2017


You walk the dog along the pond, talking
to your finance about the wedding. You say
sleep eluded your last night because of worry.

Worry, like you do sometimes, fretting over
your job, you say. All the weight of everything
pressing down on you until you’re shaking

your head side to side, saying no, no, no as
if a dream pirate has you tied to the mast
in a rainpour. Weirdly, by morning you’re

okay, realizing an action to take. Find a place
to marry with tables and chairs and a roof above,
in case of rainpour.  It’s simple, yes, giving

up the worry so sleep will wash you down
river, floating on a large inner tube, the day

glorious with sun and spring flowers.

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