the west is gilded

all blue sky backdrop
sliver of morning moon
slipping in between the shine/curve
to be framed by the arch catching
7:30am sun as we roll past
_______

if it wasn’t for the women, women
we would not be livin, livin
we would not be singin, singin
loving and beloved, women
we start the morning walking out
of war and cucumber by singing
the horrible song which we think is horrible
but also somehow has its contagious
joke/not joke qualities
_______
cat conference joining me
at the picnic table which i lay out on
to take in all layers of gray
shifting above me
while the juniper branches rise fall in the wind
and the horizon to the west is gilded
in orange gold and the air
against my skin is perfect in its
high 60’s perhaps low 70’s
temperature

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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