Broken Sky
The air seems broken today
low and high clouds shred and fracture.
Breathing has to be sieved
through a fine mesh of mindfulness
and bellows worked
by the laboring hands of thought.
The cracked face of the sky
will be blood red by the night
until then
we sip the honey out of the dross,
last-out these daylight doldrums,
wait for a free-sailing,
and vagabond wind.
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