Man Watches January
a stumble of thoughts
trek through forgotten snow.
if my heart warmed,
would the grief thaw off my face?
so many lessons unlearned, frozen here,
scars from harsh failures.
winter simply buries them,
pure in its cleansing chisel.
and yet it's all here, down below,
not a single sin is dead.
an old white rabbit
snowshoes over the tombs.
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11/30/23 ... lots of mods
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