Broken Morning

I stood at the window


one flickering star

slip slow

beneath the trees

on the west horizon;

another broken morning.

I could not say

if the earth was moving

or the star was falling.

I could consult

the experts

on such matters and

often do, but

I don’t think it’s

required for either

faith or wonder.

We should each

give names

to the


in our own way.

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