In the way that the mind
can lose track of the body
I was unable to move.

I stood at the counter
with my hand on the coffee bean grinder
looking out the window

at all the little birds
picking at black sunflower seeds
scattered on white snow

and I wondered how long it would take
to reconnect
and where was the threshold of crazy.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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