November 21, 1995

Any day's writing may be the last

He's reminded at 2 in the morning

Making this year's last Italian

Notes, before readying his machine

And self to get aboard the bigger

Machine and fly, Dio Volente, home.

And so he repeated the Our Father

He said to himself before rising.

And feels a heartfelt thanks, Lord,

For such poems as have come his way,

Whether or not they get read, and,

It goes without saying, few may.

And thanks as well for eagerness,

Almost daily, to greet the drone

With words, bequeathed in part

By what poets before have done:

He prays to be among them, one,

However small. The work is all.

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