(for Huey Crisp)
His phone rings almost all night,
as measured and intense
as somebody smoking a cigarette.
Taking an order for a monogrammed dog bed,
he remembers the time
a fox watched him, motionless,
from the edge of a field.
This is sometimes how grace comes to us,
sharp and fleeting as a paper cut.
Why I Get Up Each Day
Tomorrow, maybe, or today
sunlight will discover one red leaf.
The sound will shatter crystal.
-Jo McDougall, 2001
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