THE OPEN WINDOW

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We all die in harness,

dragging the blade we sharpen all our lives

across the belly of the earth.

But let me live one moment inside this welcome light

coming through the kitchen window,

while the taste of coffee is still on my tongue,

still sweet with cream.

Joy comes easily now, standing at ease,

fields left unplowed, unseeded.

What remains after everything has been taken is joy

there is no one left to claim.

A voice is heard calling a name we no longer answer to

and suddenly the moon is in the poplar tree with its companion

the first star.

.
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Photo of bee taken on the road to the White Salmon River.

Photo of bee taken on the road to the White Salmon River.