For the time we thrive to hold back
Sad birds drip song from a piano and another snow moon rises.
Beyond the trees, those howls are harm in the key of hurting.
What brings us so close together is what presses the night worlds apart. All lights must eventually go out and the remnants be lost as shadows. Flint fire then for the time we thrive to hold back the kiss of ruin.
Dead barns seized in the grip of leafless alders, the quiet contagious. Winter stalking anything that moves, waiting to bring it to season. A far off screech holds the mouse tight against a wisp of hopeless hay.
These tracks, neither coming nor going, keep their travel just so. To venture out into the wild is to live a life as if it were the only one. Run your fingers along the stars and see where the light bleeds through.
February 21, 2013