DOORS

Fair winds, the pause of between,

ruffle the edges of canvas awnings.

The sound of coarse linen being formed

into small waves, resemble incoming

tides onto shorelines celebrating morning.

The day tumbles within minutes, creating

hours of hope with the sense something good

will happen. The manicured thoughts

we cultivate, wait patiently for the map

of our feet to layout directions like a

panting yet to be started. Cautious shadows

act as windows to advise without consent.

Every door has a face. Opening them

takes courage. Choosing, requires wisdom.

 

 

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