The peace left behind

The last time I felt
Peace was standing
Under a grey November sky
We walked to see the beavers
Who were building a dam

At 15, and old enough to
Appreciate naked trees
And rocks with seed pods
The beavers built by
Transporting mud slowly

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



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