I forget that it's six
in the morning in Oregon and text her
about the job.
no answer. of course.
she's still sleeping under
the canopy
of wet trees, an emerald
umbrella of
cool shade, lost in a dream
of deep sleep.
I look out my window and see
the same.
I love green. the woods now
full. it feels like hope.
like new
love,
like tomorrow will be okay.
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