11 January 2014


Not much to be learned from this Shiny Alone,
All sparkly in the quiet night.
Maybe some dusty awareness,
Dragged from an untidy nap, grumpy and pale.

I have tired of the clouds and rain,
Everything musty and dark, yet
Would not, could not, abide the sun.

There aren’t enough bridges or trains.
We could use more rivers, maybe a tree.
A path in the woods, no birds singing,
The smell of pine, and the soft tread of my footsteps, away.

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