Wednesday, October 6, 2010

1131. PODCOAT

PODCOAT
This world won't be mine, this world won't
be yours. We are probably as good as dead
already. Things change and time passes.
The variegated coatings of the round
pills we digest are the colors of a life well
lived. Nothing escapes fancy : watch those
tree-leaves turn their ways, listen to
the black walnut pod fall; it hits the
ground with its own sweet thud.
We can ignore or we can absorb,
but I bet we can't forget - all that
which we know - from those
long tribal pasts in the forests
and woods, when sense and
reaction was all that we had.
Say what you want, but
life gets no better. Of
that, you should
be glad.

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