Rebirthday Card a poem by James Broughton

How did you first set forth
and what is the final step?
Having rounded the multiples
and arrived at one,
do you think it especially
a flat-footing route
if both eyes are open
and the tailbone straight?

Throughout the mountain runs
thickness of granite
while under whale-spout
sinks a swallowing tunnel.
Go on! Coming up to morning
finding the roads blocked
Sun re-erects a highway
to the rising above.

Ah ripening gold,
to come to fruition where
these coins count!
The Murphys next door have
strangled in their loopholes.
Blind Mr. Stone on the corner
says, ‘Is it time to cross?
What does the light say?’

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