By Robert Jay

The child raises his hand
To the sky
Of vast possibilities

The herb is too strong
Moonlight now dances
In the leaves

The sun glimpses from this
Overcast morning only to find
More yogis offering salutations

Noticing the old homeless man
Now suddenly gone
His only obituary written
In our memories days ago

Everything is said at once
The passing strangers
Returning smiles

Gently closing the door
To the quiet morning fog
The long walk home


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