Sit in recliners
& watch
television
flinching
now & then
from pain
unfolding
like spring.
There are meadows
in the mind, but
the days are blotchy--
a brief moment
of yesteryear
in intense sunlight
before clouds
of reality
move across
the valley
& blacken
the front.
Prayers
are worn
like windbreakers,
always a little
too thin.
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