8 am…ish

i’m sitting out back listening to a multitude of birds sing their morning spring songs
traffic passes consistent and unhampered
and i wonder, had i’ve been sitting here in this chair
50 years ago, would it have sounded the same?
after these unusually cold may days
the sun feels good upon my flesh
in this moment I feel as if nothing is wrong
the universe is.. not quite quiet, and almost perfect
nature reminds me of the persistence of life
how it rises to the surface despite the odds
it’s a circle, always a circle
and my circle is bound by repetition
it’s incomplete

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