Post Hibernation


The jumping off place

Not a bridge too far.

Not a mountain too high.

Just a simple shade of finite sky.

With every line drawn in the dirt,

A castaway from the hurt.

A pine pillar in which to hang a lost shirt.

What of  a stepping point?

Where are the cobbled stones?

How to find my rock in this the hard place?

I am nothing but a worn down to the ground


Always holding on for the last gasp.


Oh, but, what a beginning, right here in the middle.

Post hibernation, I feel encompassed by the

trivial fears so silly and simple and little.

On this path, so far along.

Never too far to write a wrong.

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