All Thoughts Be Them Gentle


Without pride the first of snow arrives.

And, for the briefest of moments…

All thoughts.

All gentle.

Softly…collide.

Clowning of cows

disrespecting a hard frost with their snowy beds.

Somewhere a cornstalk, brazen and brown.

Not quite ready to give in.

With a walking stick made for greener days.

I, too, bed down with primitive sin.

Until the land perpetuates…

Again,

and,

again.

And,

again.

animal-2

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