It’s
winter again:
all that
is mortal
breathes
slow.
dark
roads
lost under
infinite white,
lay
low, skin to skin with Earth.
rivers
curled
at the bottom,
dream
of a fish, a rainbow.
cities
slow down,
sleep
longer,
look
alike,
glued
by the cascading patina
of a
gray sky.
the net
of barren trees
tremble…
I think
of trees:
stripped
to the bones,
embraced
by death,
dreaming
of life.
at this
time
of
white reflection
I learn
to forget
every day,
as
early nights
softly
wrap
around
bones
of my memory.
in
those short winter days
darkness
falls early
~NKO
12/3/13
