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
fallow. dormant. resting. bare.

there is a holiness
found in resting.

and a promise of being

written and submitted at Abbey of the Arts

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