Carol of the fall

Even the wind died to listen

as snowflakes sang softly

A chorus of whispers fell

quelling Autumn’s dance

of rust colored argument

beneath silent footsteps 

their way soon erased

with the path to follow

as well as passing time

stilled by Winter’s song

and the longing to stay

Find myself on a card

Painted on white glitter

I remember myself 

I understand Holy

in unspeakable awe

I understand nothing

And it doesn’t matter

 

 

 

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