The peace left behind

beaver-2913309_1280

The last time I felt peace
I was standing
Under a grey November sky
Walking to see the beavers
Building a dam of mud and stick

At 15, and old enough to
Appreciate naked trees
My father pointed out
The progress of the dam
Some things can be measured

The grey sky muted the light
And the New England breeze chilled

I was comfortable in this skin once

Today my thoughts spin so fast
That a lassooing wrangler
Must tackle them at night
As they run, like cattle
At breakneck speed

Each day, bright lights
Dripping sweat, blinding sun
Slammed down by blunt force
No pooled waters of
The life I left behind

A Pixabay photo

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