Year of the Goat
A thought enters
your head. It imagines itself
growing like an infant.
How wonderful it is to be born!
How lovely and unrepentant
it is to live.
You must remember also
there is the love
that grows in the wet soil
and must be
tended to thrive
against the frost.
(I, too,
numb to the apples
rotting against the ground.)
What’s important now is we
our senses.  
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