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Friday, January 25, 2013

We Both Know - Previously published on The UK Poetry Library

>We Both Know

It is the storm's forgetting in silence I fear.

We both know how the rain can

hit concrete and turn to ice

We both know how gathering clouds and disbursing clouds

will change a person's visage; pale thin light

does something to a person's skin, to their eyes.
We know how wind focused through the canyon of buildings

causes people to hunker in on themselves,

bunker arms tight around their layers

to protect, not allow frigid air to get a fingers grip.

We know a winter can last a long time;

the quieted pause giving us a chance to step outside

and survey what damage was wrought.

But we also know how a stripped tree glows

when the sunlight finally wins.

Even in a city of blacktop, storied buildings and commercial lights,

with thin pale light refracted by the crystalline layers and magnified,

a naked tree requires sunglasses for viewing,

its shape a single typed character against a stark white page,

a shock in the middle of blankness, an awakening,

It's limbs remembering to reach out, remembering its structure

Even in the city, a stripped tree is a thing to admire.


Dec 30 2012

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