Revisiting Poetry 

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In the end it is an ocean
and you are the words on the beach
taken
to be tsunamis and sandcastles
sprouting seed
the wind and the wood chime.

In April of 2013 I wrote a very short poem that has stayed with me. I found it again in November 2014 and reposted it, and, thanks to Facebook’s new insistence that we all relive every moment we ever shared ever…I get to be reminded about this poem every November 22, every year, until either I am shuffled off this mortal coil, or Facebook gets eaten by the Internet Heffalump. I’ll let you all place your bets as to which you think will happen first.

Late November will always be a time for this poem, because it is the time my grandfather passed away.

I believe that poetry is the unique experience of a poet inviting the reader to inhabit a moment in time. I still haven’t found the exterior of this poem’s bubble, and every time I read it I get a new layer of attachment.

It is currently available in my collection The Playground.

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