the Rains of New Hampshire

Bleak is the air that wrestles the sun.

A live virus that beholds no hampshire 2

Had I been placed here by my own accord?

Would I have forgiven the lack of warmth?

The ghost-like trees.

The moistened forever blight.

Frost covered illness and lack of ease.

How temperate wooden, woolly, sprites distract from the sensitive sway?

I watch as, freeze steals away from the morn.

Always winter and her fight.

I have tucked away the colored glasses for more than forty days…

and, forty nights.

new hampshire 1

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