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A quarterly international literary journal


/ Poetry /

Stunned by the moment,

by the sunrise light golden

in my studio,

shining through even the leaves

of the plants on my table,

so that I can see their ribs,

can see how the light must

penetrate their cells.

How they reach toward the sun

even as they are surrounded by light.

How this moment of life

is everything,

is really all there is.

How foolish it might be

to try to capture its magic,

its luminous being in words

on the surface of paper

made from dead plants or carbon.

Right now this moment,

leaves living in the light,

shows all there is,

or all that matters.

Just to be in it is enough.


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