Yesterday a three season day
Rain, sun and wind, snow still lingering
In the morning still with frost. Birds
Gather seeds on this second day of our
Feeder watch.
One more day of radiation and attempted
Poison before that other poison called waiting.
The insurance company will protest that I am too far
Gone. Not worth the expense and bother.
The doctor puts it in more soothing terms.
My mind rebels still at the notion that there
Is no cure, only prolonging of life – mere semantics.
There truly is no cure for the thing that chases us
From birth down halls and forests of life. There is
Only this last frost-rimed morning of winter
Filled with diamond-dust snow and the
Singing of the miraculous little birds.
Author: Duncan MacNae
Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees.
duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com
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