This Cool August Morning

This cool August morning
is a call to the blood,
the air sweet and alive
with delicate motion:
fragrance, light, color,
sound, memory, longing.

I feel it in my lungs,
my muscles, my bones.

It quakes on my tongue,
makes pilgrims of my
nameless, wayward fingers.

Some call it hope,
some call it change.

I call it home, the pain
and joy of knowing.

August 11, 2006

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