Poetry

The Bridge

I come back to the bridge,
Alone,
As an adult.

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Blobby

  Life has been blobby,
  Like all the fingers and inlets of Lake Pend Oreille.

    This past year and a half has been a discovery,
         A healing,
         An uncovering.

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Coming into the Sun

It's project day. 
Actually, this whole year has been a project.
A personal project.
A task of coming into the sun,
into a safe, warm place
and healing.

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