I step aside as the laurels fall back upon me,
allow them to hit the floor solidly, a single thud
reverberates for a moment on the hollow between beams,
then dies – a memorial to blue noise, God as ocean
upon which I rode when newborn, a powdery surfer,
puckered and sweet, alert to the new day

Then prescient; occurring now
before buoys of word harbors,
life interceding

I live
to jot
iota on the fly!

Don’t forget me not

Chagall 2019

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