Winter

Winter

What a weird way to experience this. . . 


Something forgotten : everyone has a right to life.


     no matter the purpose or value 


I stood outside
on that cool night
watching the clouds
caught in streams
of wind pass me by.
   

seams stretched
by tufted fingers
and downy swirls
layering, stacking
the only distinctions
being darker and darker

 
The pines stood silent and watched
as I watched the moon
open up the clouds. For a brief
moment, maybe more.
 

Luminous
as if the light
were a broom
brushing away the cloud
and confusion

Layer after layer—
yet, the moon shone
through. And I, the
    sentinel—
as if it needed an audience


the wake of clouds piling
  back over the heart-orb

sinking deeper into these
  inner layers

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