by: Deborah Gordon Cooper
We are just passing through
these bones,
the way this wind
inhabits the ravine,
the way this light, in its
alloted time, illuminates
the hollow.
We are just passing through
these bones,
folding and opening
these limbs.
We work these hands,
making our sandwiches
and love;
look out at one another
from these faces,
watch a raven
trace the sky.
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