november gray
leached, the day rises
wary
honed, the senses search
for life
over the daily jet drone,
birds answer mechanically
Skimming the perfect surface of the inner lake, I turn from observer to inscriber, to the ripples. It’s all in there, all of it. The waiting, the latent heat of recognition and the inevitable cooling in understanding. Everything in between, rising up, settling, dissolving
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