When Donald Justice Died

 

A friend called a friend who in turn called me–

I had walked in the mountains all day,

Roaming imagined Sidon and Tyre

Walking where I could not see.

 

Crows flew up as my dog approached,

Misdirection became a minor feat.

Blind and alone I passed

Through a stranger’s opened gate.

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Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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