A LINE DRAWN

It’s a slow step into

cold air;

the season twists out

a new face.

A cat meows at a

half moon.

Heaven hears the barking

of angry dogs.

Strands of mist stretch from

street lights.

Whispers rise from the alley.

Window dressings

slumber.

Libraries welcome closing

hours.

Rain reduces the burden of

clouds.

Dead winter flies lie between

screens and glass.

A thin thread separate’s

all of this from

the other side.

 

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