I watched outside
The window pane
As branches let the evening pass–
And Sundays,
Don’t they always look the same?
It’s fire in the west to claim
The times drawn imperceptibly,
A single measure stressed
Across what could’ve been
But wasn’t,
Hung so everyday
And framed
In not-too-bads
And doing-wells,
And still I haven’t
Figured out what they contain.
The glass, it tells me clearly
What I’d wondered only yesterday,
Its rippled sense of humor
Making fools of us behind it
While we quit another week
Of Sundays gone to purple stains.
And might I watch the window
Or perhaps I’ll turn away,
Because I’m not of mind
To watch another sunset
Meet the edges
Through the limbs
Of filtered memories
And wishes wished again.

#Redwoods #California

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