Compassion's silent promise

I almost failed
to recognize you,
though I was seeking you,
and knew that you'd be
somewhere on my path.
You look so different
on these dark damp mornings;
more black than gray
and glowing in the light
of this sky's tears.
You seem to have become
a more reflective soul
as winter wanders in
with her clouds
and chilling rains;
as if the blue
of all the skies of summer
had condensed and deepened
into you
to gleam compassion's silent promise
of summers still to come.


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