Gap Year

Make the most of it they say,
As if that’s not
What we’re already trying to do
Though definitions vary between late
Evenings and impending sunrise,
Watch night sky glisten with match
Sticks striking skin, a glimmer of pointillism
Find our way home by connecting the dots
Taking time holding onto consequence of being
Together under assumption that if these eyes
Never close dawn can never come
But it does and how sweetly significant it is
That the day can end in reverie against such
Sullen cries of waning innocence

Pulled awake with thick honey beams
Shrugged off residual suppositions
Lingering still a soft pot of moral support ready
To mitigate existential insecurity waits eagerly
In the kitchen or outside painted as neoteric
Portraits of wash-town forests
Take a break decide course of action
Stretch and listen leaves whisper hymnals
For the day’s intent, sing along
A chorus of vibrant arrangement

To run or wander is always
The question the Great Mother Moon asks,
To rest or mend is what’s requested when
Our eyes open, revealing again an opportunity
To repeat or start anew

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Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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