Image for post
Image for post
Gozo cliffs, January 2019 — photo by author

We stand on the very brink,
the edge,
the cusp, the lip.
Poised to fall or fly.
In the jostle,
who can tell a friendly hand,
from the nudge that tumbles all?
In the clamor,
what voice stands out,
for reason,
vision,
clear direction?
And so we muddle,
huddled,
waiting.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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