ten working days until France
and a few more until a wedding,
we are up late tonight planning
and booking, looking around our tiny
house and wondering how few can
fit, how much furniture can be moved,
how little time there is to figure all
this out as the clock ticks and my
flute lies unplayed in the case, a
poem waits to be written, words
need to be assembled in time,
how little time.
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