Solitary

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Walking under a grey morning sky,
I pause to airlift snails off the driveway
and tilt my head to listen to crow lyrics.

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Inhaling the mint and pepper smell of damp
grass and admiring the weight
of water drops on slender stalks comprises
this quiet morning.

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The solitary is a specific space, an
attic room in the brain that is both
reflective and buoyant, it is a place
brimming with memory and
abundant with possibility.