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Keith Emmons Santa Cruz Poet

It was only Wednesday

The wind, the rain was gone.

White clouds blue sky.  In spring.

She spoke in a thousand voices:

fat-breasted robins, mourning doves,

green finches perched in the junipers.

Migrators.  Like a tropical forest canopy

Her diamonds touched them all.

He knew Her love song

like the swaying wind chime, like white

red and blue prayer flags gently fluttering.

Just another Wednesday.  In spring.

I wake with the mockingbird's song

When the sun falls behind the hill,

I sleep. Consider those lines in scripture

that say, "Freedom is . . . " and so on.

Freedom is the time between.


On your retreat's first day

think deeply, meditate deeply:

Who's retreat am I on, after all?

The best advance is in retreat –

seize the opportunity! Release yourself!

In your time of stricture and discipline

learn at least – above all – to be free.

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