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Sitting at my desk, I am alone. I am pondering things.

I am dallying a while.

I feel the need to pause.

 

Staring out at the rustling mulberry tree,

mature, now sprawling, roots breaking through the earth

Daylight, spotlight

Leaves whooshing, shimmering, trembling

It is Kansas, after all

Stillness is rare

 

Quite like a thought life

Shimmying and looping and grafted into the core being

 

Sounds of the day are gentle and far. I listen.

We are slated for change

A clean slate broken and handwriting sprawled all over it

Chalk dust remains embedded despite repeated erasures

It is no use beating the erasers

It’s not their fault

 

A.  Locke 2013