The wind is stuck this week.
It’s blowing from the Northeast
with a steadiness of force enough
to turn the temperature on land to that of sea.
The Gulf of Maine in late September
off the coast of Northern Massachusetts
rests around the higher fifties
which is where our air is resting.
Likewise now there’s something to be said
about the art of meditation as the absolute
redeems this being no longer lost in thought
but resting in this being.
O let the sea wash over me
ten thousand yards away
as black crows fly but here
and now as silently as I.
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