June 11.1

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I do not like this kind of hope–
fragile as a newborn,

I fear for it. Say what you will,
but tread gently, please–

tundra, tagia-like,
it takes years to grow.

And I know,
I am the very last person

who should lecture you
on this. Tomorrow, till late,

it’s a red flag warning–
high winds, low humidity,

that is, fire weather–
That is, forgive

my impulsivity,
I lack a cool shore.

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