BIGGER SKY

Urban climbing up
concrete hills, what
season is it anyway?

Four straight days
of light-flooded windows
spark new leaves
on the basil plant.

I said it many times:
I need a bigger sky,
larger moon-stage,
vast and brooding.

On that shallow shore
just north of here: why
are the boats left
floating free all night?

What small city sparkles
to the east? Why can’t
I keep the ocean’s west
location ever straight?

And can I keep this
golden fondness with
me past autumn?

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