Hurricane
warnings on the island,
Poetic preoccupation
with death…
I awoke to
walk on frozen grass,
Through
clouds of my own breath.
The lone
robin, rabbits and myself,
Are
pre-programed to survive.
We will let
the wind blow through us
To regroup
on the beach alive.
We’ll tally
our losses tomorrow,
Weighing our
victory over fear…
Let’s
celebrate this wonderful place
Until we
blow away next year.
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