Day 69- 11.24.20
I'm thankful it's on it's way onward
like a rain cloud or
a rusty can on recycling day.
The feeling gets further each day
like the ability to recall the scent of snow
in summer's wet center.
The feeling dissipates with each
compassionate interaction, each
island of passion reignited, saved from
dropping to the bottom of the sea.
The feeling akin to what the bottom of a foot
must feel in a gym sock.
The feeling adjacent to that of a shucked oyster
on display in the window of
a boisterous Wellfleet pub.
The feeling owns me until one day
I wake up
and it doesn't.
Miracle of miracles.