On This Straight Earth

I can’t see the ice-caps melting, have no love
for concrete. I’ve felt the heat every summer
and my skin browning. I’ve heard the yelping chorus

of crickets belting out melodies
from trees, helping themselves to a hum,
sought myself outside myself, stayed straight
on this straight earth by tilting.

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A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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