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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Counting Things

I am counting things.
Keeping track of the one
eagle in Columbus,
how many oranges
as big as the moon I’ve seen.
Abduction of neighbors by UFO’s,
volcanos erupting,
stars the color of rubies.
Valentine cards filling boxes
counted by weight,
and the years I’ve lived
divided by five,
which seems better
and less middle-aged.

My love affairs with life,
climbing exponentially,
with prayers answered,
heart to heart,
so many,
I say, thank you,
morning, noon, and night.
Candles lit,
the omnipresent hush
of fate, . .
settling.

The bride will say,
I do.
The groom will say,
I do.
And love will confront
their pledge.
Eyes witnessing their union
will wash in a sea of hope.
The woman who is a bride
will whisper,
in the silence of herself,
I am now a wife.

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