The phrase "from time to time"
makes my mind see stepping stones
set wide-apart. Circles of light
on stages. Old pulpy catalogues
and sports newsprint pages,
imploded miners' shacks,
and burial mounds, retired profs
(strangers now on what they'd thought
of as "their" campuses) taking
hard steps into a library. "From
time to time" makes me sad,
forlorn, and blue--but glad
to be alive today though feeling still
a chill on back and shoulders as Earth
spins me toward my personal last time.
hans ostrom 2024
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