Anxious Haibun

In daily life, I exert no clairvoyance though there are some 
who seem perfectly able to do that. The most I do is sniff
the air, try to figure out what emanations there are besides
oily globules suspended in the kitchen atmosphere, sinking
into the used coffee grounds and filter papers, the day-
old trash and crumpled up water bottles in recycling.
Sometimes I can feel a sigh or the echo of a sigh
from yesterday, wrapped in petulance or silence.
Sometimes the distance from my throat to my feet
is a plumb line shooting through the heart. I don't know
what to offer the gods that dissipate our inner climates,
that plant misgiving in the fertile gardens of what
should only be our simple concern.

Fly away, worry.
I give you the color blue;
or jade green, serene.

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