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another day

I�m walking the neighborhood,
my regular circuit,
on a very early mid-March morning,
cool, but not cold,
damp from the storm last night,
a real thunder and lightning downpour
with water roaring down the creek
with a low-pitched rumble that woke me,
this morning's evidence of the rush,
high-water debris up twenty feet,
from the normal flow, almost to street level.

I�ve noticed on these very early walks
that none of the neighborhood dogs bark
as I pass, strange, the quiet,
like light morning mist,
adding to the lost feel of the morning,
as if reality
has tried to slip away,
caught in the here and now
only by a ragged thread

I stop on the metal foot bridge
that spans the larger creek
and soak up the feel of the morning,
trying to find some message for me,
some truth or even some fiction
that will help me take the day,

sun to the east, just a shadow of a light
rising, in the west the half-moon sets,
as sirens start,
multiple wails cueing the dogs
who wake and howl along,
and I see two fire trucks and two ambulances
pass on Evers, heading for the loop,
two and two, a big one, I think,
someone is dead or dying,
right now in this morning, on Loop 410
near here, their death, the final knotting
of all the threads of their life, as inconsequential to me
as my continued living is bitter trivia to them

the moon sets,
the sun completes its rising,
and it�s monday,
another day

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