Poem: “Twas No Excuse”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Twas no excuse

You weren’t the center

Nor the margin even now.

The rains came

And washed the snow,

Evidence of winter,

Into premature spring

And doubters quaked

Like Colorado aspens,

While time slipped

Gearless through fog,

And no mind left

An impression of life.

I winked at the conceit

Of ignoring as lesson—

Is that a cold front?

Don we now

Our parkas yet,

Again?

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