1677

Meditating
In the woods
On the end of Manhattan
On the hum

Of the calculator

And the way the paper
Comes flying out
Into a new world
It numbers

One step
At a time

Suddenly I'm flooded
By the need to be close
To my people

To lift a skirt of course
But also to listen
For some quiet also
A part per million
Of where I'm from

Here
Here
And here

The point of everything
Has a bird on it

The light of day
Has a point