Ode to the Little-Used Hammock

while the sun of summer

teeters on the cusp of cooler

weather, something taps 

on the edge of my brain

as if to say here

you ought to take 

a few minutes 

to read a book or

close your eyes, quiet

the perennial pounding

in your heart; not even

swing or make any

motion at all, just

lie in this shallow

suspended bowl 

since after all

we have to get up

until we can't.

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