A quiet mind is all we need. All else happens rightly, once the mind is still.

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November Golfer

A lone golfer swings,
his wool cap and zipped jacket congruent
with the bare oaks and elms.

Walking by this golf course throughout the year,
I often sense the Earth loves it when we play,
there's a deep joyousness
or a tickled pinkness
as if there could be no better use of her surface,
as if it is meant to be a playground.

As if all the carts
careening in crazy patterns
down each fairway
make her day,
never mind the scores.

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