oh how quickly I forgot about the
The Agreement. To write every day,
about the bottle of whiskey on the breakfast table,
the red glow of the hummingbird feeder and
the chirping of the chickadees thrashing in the bushes.
It will be hot today, the laundry will be too dry
to take down, the flowers will wilt and the bees
will fly that much slower from one precious flower
to the next.
Perhaps the grasshopper on my blouse
disturbed the winds of memory.
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