a somewhat pang behind our eyes
the sinking darkness of places unvisited
dreams undreamed
visions in wispy slivers blowing away
cold before spring
white and bare seemingly
beneath the frosty ground
breaks and moans the cries of change
bald rock and slick pitch
we slip and grasp again
time grows long in bare light
march’s bony hand reaches beckoningly
her long fingers smooth brittle branches
her cloudy breath puffs the morning’s gloom
her sweet smile warms one lengthening afternoon’s shadows
her voice the death throes of doubt
a somewhat pang behind our eyes
the reminder of darkness
of all we have dreamed this winter
blows away in gusty whisperings
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Editorial Assistant: Kathryn Rutz / Editor: Bryonie Wise
Photo: flickr
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