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Hiding From A Crisis

Date Written: September 22, 2017
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Were I a crab on sun-set sand,

soft meat encased in tough cocoon —

Were troubles waves, I'd cling to land

below tide summon-ing clock moon.

I'd contemplate the grains of sand

to while away the surface crashes,

ironically protecting me from and

created by wave's lashes.

I'd ponder philosophically,

rather than tumble on the wave,

my place as Crab on earth, in sea

while buried still; I am not brave.

 

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