... beauty ..., ... death ..., ... life ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... prose ..., ... religion ..., ... winter ..., ... written under the influence ...

Winter Happens

when Winter dies, so do i.
prickly, gray tree bones stretch
towards a sun drenched sky.

the blue above illuminates
the brown below; shameful
and sacred sortilege.

when they lay me down, embalmed
and well-dressed, will i bother to mind
such a surreal day? from floating

rafters above? or when my cords are
finally loosed, will i run with abandon
under all the naked trees?

does Winter even happen in Heaven?

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8 thoughts on “Winter Happens

  1. “will i bother to mind
    such a surreal day? from floating
    rafters above?”
    Something about those last words…
    “floating rafters above”
    Really enjoy this.

  2. it’s one of those full moon nights again where one cannot help but to howl…. that we should all run naked with freedom under the winter skies… forget the suit… seriously, it is beautiful to consider and contemplate life and death all at once in few words just shy of a lifetime… beautiful…

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