A woman's
high bootheels
crack
against concrete
dried leaves
in wind
crack on the back
of a park bench
small hard
snow pellets
in the first sudden squall
crack
against a window
that cascades cold
into a dim room
an echoing season
cracks
shards
collapses.
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5 comments:
The sharp bite of winter....
I love this - whenever I miss winter I just come here....
There is a crack in everything.
Thanks for dropping by, all. Been awhile since I did a longer(ish), written piece....
'Dreamer: Yes; all too sharp. Hi! have you gotten any where you are yet?
Angelfish: Am I really so frosty?
Aggie: What kinda crack is that?
I've only known winter through stories and poetry and pictures. Your poem brings it to me, in this quiet room. At five in the morning, way before dawn. It's a refreshing plus, especially on a Monday. Thank you. ^_^
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