Upon the ridge between
Ragle and Live Oak Canyons,
a mile or more three miles away,

sun and moon seasons slide
Solstice to Solstice
when there is no way

to measure time exactly—
days without names
beginning behind

                    a different tree
                    to diffuse the light
                    for a moment

and I am blind, lost to this world,
refreshed—each new day
sliding between the canyons.


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