Tuesday, 02 February 2016 10:26

Winter Blues Featured

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Winter Blues

I am in an arid season

where nothing germinates,

and nothing will grow.


Is this a hibernation or a drought?

Nothing will connect,

and nothing cleaves to nothing.


I sit in this armchair, one third awake,

and follow old day-dreams down blind alleys

beside the fire, beneath the cat's warm weight.


Outside the house, in the uncertain light,

wind frets and fidgets in the wet gutters.

Rain clatters, cold, against the window glass.

Read 904 times Last modified on Tuesday, 02 February 2016 10:30