Sniff the roses one more time

Wipe the work surface clean

Click the keyboard keys line by line

Vent departmental spleen


The red-tailed hawk spirals high above

The three-legged coyote lopes across the parking lot

The miniscule turtle flares its nostrils in the stagnant pond

The blue heron poses beneath the willow fronds


I am the drifting cloud that shifts its shape

I am the discarded office chair

I am the motorist blocked by a mile-long freight train

I am the scythe of morning

I am the wisdom beyond the landscaped edge

I am the blood that smears clinical labyrinthine walls

I am the Silver Wheel that spins soul paths

(and the spinning hubcap, too)


Dust the sides of this gray cube

Fax the order clearly

Be transfixed by the hollow tube

Squander time so dearly

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