you’ve got to create someone inside of you who will understand

the day is forested
in gray,
though not so
thick
as to blot out
the surrounding hills.

the air is mild.
a thin coat
is all you need.

no proofing
against rain.

you feel calm.
you feel mild.

you spent a few hours
working on tasks.
you spent a few hours
reading a book.

you took a short nap.

not a single dollar
was made.
not a cent.

what you have
to say,
it doesn’t need to be
said.

it can’t really be
expressed,
anyway.
none of it
makes much
sense.
not even to you.

the tight fist
of understanding,
it loosens.
you feel the breeze.
you do not need
to try
to make more
of it
than what it is.

it isn’t a larger sign.
it isn’t some precursor
to something
profound.
and if it is,
you won’t know.
not now.
no need to know.

you walked the short distance
to one of the few
small stores
in the tiny town
of your current
physical
inhabitance.
you passed a man,
obviously a visitor,
sitting on the concrete base
of a light pole,
adjacent to a strip
of mown grass,
right next to
a saltwater harbor.
he spoke into his phone
and you yawned
while slowly walking,
while looking at birds,
while watching the sky.
as you passed him
he smiled
and nodded at you.
you smiled back at him.
nodded back.
raised your hand
gently
in a small
and simple
gesture
of existence.

a tiny white flower, still unfurled, peaks out from its green sheathing

Published by Zak

poetry of place. words in service of the wordless.

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