Sunday, December 3, 2017

Waiting to Wake

What do I know
of the blinding white snow
and the way that it peppers the ground?
How can I hear
from the foraging deer
as they threaten without any sound?

What do I see
in each leaf barren tree
that reminds me of all I have lost?
How can I smell
the small creatures that dwell
beneath dirt overladen with frost?

There is some part of me
in each thing that I see
on this wintry, frozen landscape.
There are other parts hidden;
until now, forbidden,
just waiting,
just waiting,
to wake.

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