Another Spin at Life

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How swiftly life can run its course,
from the baby brother in my arms
to the shell of a man, whose lifeless heart
rested beneath my hand on his ribs.
I just turned around and he was gone.
Maybe I shouldn’t turn around so much,
the dizzying effect of such rotations
will make me fall over too soon enough.

And isn’t that a morbid thought
on this (alleged) Spring day? A day
when the grass remembered its life
as something green, and the magic maples
and willows opened their tiny fists
like natural conjurers’ hands to show
nothing up their sleeves but sudden life.

That can happen mighty fast, too.
I guess that’s why I wasn’t surprised
when I found a cup of twigs in the bottom
of my yet-to-be-removed Easter wreath,
where two days before circled naught
but frosted silk flowers and plastic eggs.
Now a house sparrow whooshes past
from within my weather-safe entry
whenever I wander my way in.

Today, I spied within that lifeless cage
of threaded maple, ash and oak ribs,
a different kind of circle, a beating orb
of life that can return as fast as fly away.
I guess that’s when I decided to make
a go of it for at least another day,
and spin my way to another.
One circle at a time.

Strange where you can find the message you need to read at that exact point of your flash of time during this dawn-to-dusk of existence. Usually, it comes from my granddaughter. Today, it came from that chilly little ball of life up there. This is Poem #8 of poem-a-day NaPoWriMo 2016.

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