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Five Reasons to Love the Long Nights of Winter
Originally posted on Writing Spaces: After a bright afternoon’s quickening light To be cradled by dusk, Its slowly sit-down darkening To contemplate the softening outline of the old cat Curled warm on your grey-trousered lap To watch the women and men with briefcases and backpacks Walk from the bus toward darkened houses To see a… Read more
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With its secret dances
Come in, with your body and its whispered dreams I will not breathe a word come in, bring its needling anguish, its yokes and shackles, the chains and burdens that make it stumble its tears that stream without permission bring in your body with its fine, secret dances in meadows and under full moons the… Read more
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One by one,
One by one, winter lifts its long fingers from the deep freeze where they have grown, collecting crystals month by month with its diamond file sharpens them precisely then slips out to test an edge on the skin of our necks and back it goes sitting in the shimmering dark wearing the glimmer of a… Read more
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Small offerings
The night’s small offerings to the road are easy to lift: wrapped in a leaf or carried on a bier of two stout twigs an empty drink cup in the ditch will do if a scoop is needed Their still, often neat bodies of feathers and beaks of claws and fur tiny red stick legs… Read more
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My sleep is like
pearls on a worn string slipping down the line from one hour to the next of jewelled slumber but in between a frayed cord of anxious waking, hot turning, grasping for a lifeline that my sweaty touch disintegrates, dreams clattering to the floor and here I am again, awake ~~~ Read more
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