Thursday, January 24, 2013

With rime, if not with reason

In each life, so many seasons --
and this one has been blessed
with rime,
if not with reason;
that frosted edge
that comes with too much fog
and too much cold,
with a growing stillness
that rises from within.
I'm watching my own breath
congeal to crystals,
ice tufts that settle in my hair,
my brows,
imparting some new granularity
to thoughts, to actions, to response...

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