After peeking beneath the eve,

the sun dives south beyond the ridge

near the Solstice. Time’s quick departure


into darkness begs moments stolen

around a fire, glass of wine,

2-for-the-price-one thin tri-tips


browning above hardy Manzanita coals

flicking blue and yellow tongues

into our eyes to clear them—


like standing in a gate opened

to a pasture of possibilities

yet ungrazed at this late date.



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