Master Key

Open the drawers and dump them on the table

The clink, clink, clinking of these keys-

Broken and unlabeled-

Will not stop

The unlocking that is to come


Those doors wait

For the skeleton to be found,

For the turning and the tumbling

When what’s been buried above ground

Will be set free


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I live in a community of weather-watchers.

Before the sun rises and its pale light peers over the trees, they watch. After the barn owl swallows the skin and bones of her midnight meal, they worry. When a trip to town leads to meeting a fellow weather-watcher, they talk. They watch and they worry and they talk about the rain or the heat or the cold. They behave this way because they must plan.

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