These are poems flowing out from my senior, quiet, meditative self, yearning toward love and gratitude for life, for awareness, for people and animals, for almost all-that-is.
They move between inward and outward life, between joy and frustration, between clarity and confusion, between simplicity and complexity. I wonder about what is mine and what is not mine, as poems, like musical compositions, are often just given, arising in consciousness from somewhere and perhaps from someone, given in their entirety. I can only say thank you, again and again.
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