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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