Wednesday, March 1, 2023

What Is To Be

This is the little lake on the last day of summer
a black water hen is duck-diving in the ripples
time passes ever so quietly
as the sky floats by
look again tomorrow
when maybe autumn brings sunshine
to peg my clothes on the line.
Some days are fine.
All days are always 'What is to Be'
the lake is lake,
the sky is free to be whatever breezes easily
so I will contentedly be me.

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