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POEM: still small

still small

at midday I crunched across the cereal bowl
     floor of the forest
never out of hearing of the lunch-grabbers with
     their gas pedals and squeaky brakes
in the afternoon I drifted popeward in the
     sanctuary of a Carmelite monastery
still unable to escape the commuters with their
     combustions and their hybrid choirs
how am I supposed to hear the still small voice
     when everything around me is exploding

/ / /

17 November 2021
Perinton NY

Published in My poems Poetry Religion

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