I want to know: what keeps you
stirring up the liquid in the tray;

again and again, plunging your hand
to the shallow bottom to unsettle

sediment, just when the water
is so close to clear? Today began

in fog: not even the outlines of trees
emerged until the sun was past its prime.

In the end, however gradually,
everything delivers itself from need.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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