Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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The morning mind still not corrupted
by the day, my piece of purity of soul
un-possessed, an hour or two of order
to pray and pare precision, perceive
the bone and symmetry of skeleton
imagine untainted measure, before
all meaning runs out, in chaotic sounds
clanging and combustion, random
calls, heavy falling movement without
pattern or aim, time to sit in momentary
darkness of dawn, as multiple nests
of birds awake, to ascertain the rhythm
and dimension of each voice, distinct cadence
to genus and family and see before light
breaks, their colors of plumage in memory.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    August 21, 2011
    Over Costa Rica