You Left Me

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The morning sounded cruel before the crow.
O, how I wished it could have been the dove!
You left me without any place to go.

He flapped his glossy feathers to and fro,
He squawked and cried from branches up above.
The morning sounded cruel before the crow.

I stood and shivered ankle-deep in snow.
My glove fits me, you fit me like a glove.
You left me without any place to go.

You thought our love died out so long ago,
And now it’s only us, it’s push and shove.
The morning sounded cruel before the crow.

I believed our love would only grow;
A love that you were so neglectful of.
You left me without any place to go.

You never said you didn’t love me though;
You told me you had yet to feel our love.
The morning sounded cruel before the crow,
And you left me without any place to go.

(2005-feeling very impressed with my 8th grade self)

Hudson Line, Looking Out

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Trees stand bare on the banks of the river, their canopies bristles of a fully-grown beard on a giant’s chin. I wish I could soar above and see this giant’s face, to see if he is asleep for the winter or if his great watery eyes are open to the blank sky. His ears will be forever submerged in this cold gray water, hearing the hushed roar of the depths and nothing else. He is between dry and wet, light and dark, sky and sea, and I cannot tell if this giant was caught mid-rise toward the surface – raising his heavy head and chest out of the riverbed to hear birdsong and train rattle and thunder clap – or if he was choosing to sink his being slowly back into the wet and roiled rush, a choice to hear no more, when the land froze in time.

(2017)