Drifting (by Vince Bauters, whose blog can be found here)

I sleep with the windows open
and let spring come back into
my life. By now the country
fields have flooded. The utility
workers lift some electrical lines.
I have talked about feeling alive.
I can explain it with perfect vocabulary.
The way clouds look at night. Their
resemblance to the shape of two bodies
underneath bed sheets.
They move in great circles. Always
rolling around and falling out of the sky.
No one looks at where they’re going.
I wake up to the sound of birds.
I think I’ve lost everything.

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