Book launch tomorrow; Meanwhile, a Meditation Poem, for today

I am the warmth of the sun against the right side of my face,
squinted and sweating.

I am the sound of the airplane passing overhead,
leaving me behind.

I am the red, raw blisters of this shovel’s splintered handle.

I am the smell of fallen dust, when the wind doesn’t blow.

I am the taste of clear, cool water,
which has no taste.

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