Saturday, February 2, 2019

when it's spring

it's a mystery.
a riddle.
a long way home
from here.
no direction, no map.
no clear
path.
we're in the fog.
the cold
sleet drizzle.
the mud once snow.
our ears are full
of whispers.
cold wind.
February doesn't sing.
it thuds
forward
on ice.
one boot after the other.
wake me when it's
spring.

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