- December 31, 1999 -
I’d been walking for longer than I could reckon.
The mind had entered a seasonal slump.
Suddenly, in an eerily prolonged second,
it occurred to me I’d been struggling on a dump.
All along I had thought it a mountain.
My gaze flew down along the precipitous steep
until it caught a glimpse of that long-sought fountain
through which, however, not a trickle seeped,
though through a flaw in sound I thought I heard its roar.
Or was something flapping on an adjacent shore?
The dump is full of images and more –
enough to provide me with what I thought I lacked.
One grows to cherish the things on which one is stacked!
From my vantage atop the toppled mound,
I imagined I heard a humming behind sound.
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