a morning poem


Driving you home,

traffic lights blink
early morning (night)off.
A car goes steady past
then two joggers,
an up-down flashlight.
Conversation weaves mystic.
If we thank God when things
go well
then we must blame God
when they don’t.
Let God be.
The old saying, Be
here now, now a joke.
But still.
It’s still night, really.
Stille Nacht.

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