almost close enough to touch

out in this barren land

where the song of the whistling robin

is muffled by damp and cold


these last vestiges of winter linger

as I fall to my knees and pry loose

petals captured by early April snow

earthen clay clings to my chapped skin


is it no wonder that I take secret pleasure

in outwitting this frozen heart

I push aside decaying leaves in dormant trees

to reveal a nest of fragile blue eggs


I celebrate rebirth in a quiet corner of the yard

by the fire pit that no longer burns

and listen to the unmaking of a dream

that is eternal winter

photo: mine


prompts: The Sunday Whirl, Poetic Asides PAD Challenge, #NaPoWriMo2018, MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt


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