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Between Seasons

furnace rumbles on
because I left our front door
open
to catch bird songs
in the still dark morning
sit down with this
frisky ball of puppy
One of us trolls through
Big Thoughts
about life,
about time and change
and loss
One of us quiets
and falls asleep with a sigh
while inside and outside
birds and furnace
continue their songs
Again and again
Someone hands me
a silver tray
heavy with gifts
and the clearest message–
Go ahead
make a poem
of all this

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