winter moon rising
over the snow drowned garden
rain of frozen leaves
evening falls by four
street lamps go on, one by one —
an owl calls nearby
I see her dimly
feathers close about herself —
familiar in shadows
rest, say her old eyes,
wear night as your own cloak and wait —
the light will rise again.
street lamps go on, one by one —
an owl calls nearby
I see her dimly
feathers close about herself —
familiar in shadows
rest, say her old eyes,
wear night as your own cloak and wait —
the light will rise again.
2 comments:
Beautiful words, worth waiting for.
Merry Christmas.
Wonderful Cate, simply wonderful.
I finally found my way here! heh!
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