What is remarkable are all the days I don’t remember, how I've forgotten one morning and the next. I’ve lost the way the sun can split the night’s dark sky with a dawn. I am thinking now of rising.
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From the Mourning Dove, in Spring
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What is remarkable are all the days I don’t remember, how I've forgotten one morning and the next. I’ve lost the way the sun can split the night’s dark sky with a dawn. I am thinking now of rising.