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THOUGHT CHORD
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13 THOUGHT CHORD
Damp winter leaves
stick to wet pavements,
squelching beneath my feet,
where tree bark scatters.
Rain drips
from newly painted rails.
A slender cat,
between the puddles
picks its way,
with carefulness.
From a large white house,
steam belches,
A flabby man, pink fleshed,
through bathroom window
Seeing me . . .
wraps a towel about himself.
It happens then.
Impressions fuse!
The flabby man . . .
slender cat,
the puddles,
newly painted rails,
and wintry air,
are one.
A single chord of thought.
So strong the impact
that my mood is changed.
I am quite lost
to other things.
Why should these thoughts
find unity in me?
Am I the player of the chord?
Or played upon?
J MILTON © 2022
www PoetryNext com