but not without fading into the sweetest pink light,
the reminder that another day rose up,
armored with sharp, cold winds,
and myriads of evergreen trees swaying along.
days are getting darker and I find myself at the
kitchen table, before coffee gets cold,
reading poetry passages to face the worst
I always wondered what made may so difficult
and it doesn't seem to be the weather
I think it's instrinsic to the way I live.
might just get more out of it
when embracing wool socks and raspy throats
when taking the time to slow down
and enjoy how the world
prepares to die and reborn.