13 February 2025

POSTCARD 218




Life Tugs At My Shoulder


I left and drove the Valley where

the sky unburdens its wet abundance

and the ground too overfull unholds

pools brimming that same twilight gray

overcome even my pathed way the water

in all its forms washes one blue the world

And I course on impelled into a blizzard gullet

we — blizzard and I — tread slipping careen

blind over peaks driving on by faith

through the vicious whiteout

the rushing world became static

The threshold sudden and weary unfamiliar

home arrives its doors and comforters

enfold in silence and in warmth into

slumber as moonless black as if

I am dipped in ink thick midnight

All things and thought writ in a final

single solid lightless word


 

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