Poem
I trust what my body says.
It is soft-spoken, never shouts,
gently whispers or nudges me into place.
I think you know what I mean.
Yesterday, it told me to go to the market
and buy a box of graham crackers.
I did. But it didn’t want the crackers,
just the walk to market and back.
Maybe another day.
Today, I feel it taking me outside.
“It’s sunny,” it says.
And I agree.
for William Stafford
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