a long year.
unlike other years,
and yet familiar.
it looks the same at times.
smells
the same.
trees in the yard.
the cut grass.
the bend of wind against
me as I
walk the hill
and around.
I hear the same birds.
the same
stream as it moves like
time beside me.
everything changes.
everything stays the same.
it's been a long year.
Sunday, August 11, 2019
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