Admonitions

Before and after
our stretch of tendencies
surrounded by people,
who can be depended on?

The isolated actions
strung along in a day
can conjure no idea
how they will add up.

Will in some future of repetitions
they hear each other’s admonitions?

The grain of the wood
cannot be appreciated
until the tree is cut down
and its body milled.

He’s a writer and nobody
well, practically speaking,
nobody runs the rapids
on his river of words.

The sons and daughters
wandering these forests
will often step upon
old imprints of our boots.

Will in some future of repetitions
they hear each other’s admonitions?

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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