Saturday, January 14, 2012

Winter Morning

the dog and I step into the silence
of before light

he takes a deep breath -
the scent of winter visible
in his joy

the moon is a fingernail of light

the bony fingers
of the walnut tree seem
stitched into the prospect of the sky

our little corner of earth's
bounty
is
fallow. dormant. resting. bare.

there is a holiness
found in resting.

and a promise of being
restored.

written and submitted at Abbey of the Arts

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