Today, the sky is quiet

Today, the sky is quiet, high.
I wish there were mountains there,
rising from Lake Ontario, that I go to
and climb, regard what must be the sea here
where I stand, lurching over each current,
one choice after another, and another,
and from that height and distance,
render as a speck of starlight that is dead
as driftwood, drained from floating
for what feels to me a trillion years
through smoothed and polished darkness.

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