‘A New Winter’

 

In the cold

new dawn

wind raises

golden grass

waving forward

lapping

on some

distant

meadow shore,

 

before,

rain sleet

sharp and bold

drives them down—-

flat.

 

Later,

sunlight

drying,

warming,

raises the dead—

tall, beautiful husks.

 

Below,

in dark,

rich,

fertile

earth,

roots, seeds and spoors

know

that

there,

is beginning and end.

 

 

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