i am sitting in the teak chair
on the grass in front of my cabin
a place i go often to read.
but today no book accompanies me.
it is january and as it has been most of the month
it is springlike today.
the nettles in the draw
are big enough to eat.
all the grass hills are green.
i listen almost more than looking.
i love my eyes
what they can bring to me
but as much as that
it is the sounds that reach me
the tiny pressure changes.
i think taken together it is a book
always new always familiar
the book of my surroundings.
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