Lily of the valley
and the echo
of the lightly falling rain.
I do not care if all of this
remains the way I’ve known it.
I embrace the change
that washes over everything.
Give me garbage truck
noise and laughing
with the smell of tiny fires
on the edge of someone’s driveway.
There is no speed that I could get to
that would take me out of where
I am right now.
Here in plain view of the cows
that eat the flowers that grow
crookedly through gaps
in all the fences.
The goats eat the thorn bushes
like they were celery
on someone else’s table
barely cold as if they somehow
kept them all from getting old.
We are their grim reapers
and their gods
and when we tell them
that we love them
it is not because
we foster any guilt.
There is a purpose
for everything that is built
but that does not mean
it is written on the wall.
We are a furnace where a soul
is getting everything it needs
to blossom beautifully.
Binoculars to focus on the distance
where the birds fly in the greatest
resolution, and they never waste
their time with looking down.

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