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I suppose we are lucky
before the storm hits my father
will return home and sleep
and wake again and again
for as many years at God gives us
because to die is the most mundane
of crosses to bear
what will I do with this wild morning
this precious birdsong and the warmth
of a voice that still answers when I call
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What a blessed insight to have before, and not after, he passes. Love the line: “because to die is the most mundane
of crosses to bear…”