cleaning the mail box

i open

up the mail bag,

the endless collection of new

and old

mail, whether

received or sent,

whether

spam

or significant.

slowly i sift through

the weeds,

the communications

of years gone

by.

people once in my

life,

and the ones

still nearby.

i take a cycle to the high

brush,

the low vines,

i clean house.

there's so much i save

that i really

don't need.