Sun warm on my face
New leaves bright at tips of branches
Old snow melting into mountains
A couple windblown clouds like fish
In a pond so clear you see bottom
Books piled high teeter on my desk
Newspapers: I have no heart to read them
(Scholars hunched over arguments
People blowing people to bits
Lying speeches of politicians)
The hell with them
“Good is this earth, it suits us”
Even if sometimes the converse is fiction
(I could put up a big sign for aliens
Nice Planet – Beware The Humans)
I turn my face to the breeze
And take a big swig of heaven
Is this how a sunflower feels?
“Bleak and blue and sad-eyed”
With a slightly bad conscience?
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