Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the grating sound of
frozen morning meadows
is holding tight
the crack of dawn

pale sun is rising
with slow heartbeat
frosted
as candlelight fades
into day

day is breaking
is creaking

and doors are opening
into cold
into morning

while steps and breaths
are taking
another challenge

december cold fingertips
warming sun breathes up my arm
a tease, i tell you

a hundred birds swish by
like a company of ants
all attending to instinct

sounds of december
puff clouds weaving into glyphs
overseeing seeded fields

a cold death
breaths life upon it
he may have died lonely
but his death breaths life upon everything
there is no need to worry
as everything has needs
we are all upon each other
each other is upon itself
why should one worry