Birthday
In the old days when the earth was flat
You could only walk so far until
You fell off the ledge
But that never happened.
If you ever got too close
The gods would strike
You down with a thunderbolt
Or turn you into a goat.
We used to follow a lunar calendar.
My birthday was always two weeks after
The first half moon of the vernal equinox
But as time went on it got
Too complicated to remember.
People lost their literacy of the skies
Even I forgot I was still alive.
So now every fourth sunny day in April
I whisper my wish to the wind
And wait for the dogwoods to flash pink and white
Like thousands of candles on a birthday cake
4/22/25
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