Saturday, December 22, 2012

Worry for the morning after


Knowing when to back away

And be still, to will, or rather

Allow it to work its way

Despite any urgent wishing,

Despite the sun coming up now

Over the mountain outside my window

Isn’t something innate with me.

How could it be trained

As I was to act and change

Everything in my path

To olive drab?  I’ve seen

The sun rise above chaparral

At Camp Pendleton, Cheju-do,

And Twenty-nine Palms.

There is always something

One can do to make it change

If one has the strength

And isn’t afraid to act, at least

Until the freezing of night

Creeps into morning and one’s

Cold fears are rendered still.

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