of the cold,
it blinds me.
*
in its glare
i lose all sight.
*
yet
underneath
a sliver of moon,
hope drips down
and the steady sound
holds me, tight.
*
are my thoughts
buried, set aside
… by what is seen
… by what has been
until they are
nearly forgotten.
*
still
the dirt,
grounded by it’s very nature,
remembers.
‘thaw’ taken from 6:15-17 of job.
inspired by my friend j’s new venture: green knitting, teaching and literature all in one.