Sunday, August 30, 2020


Sky cold blue,
snow a foot deep.
I am feeding

the birds who are
cold blue too, who
are fluffed on their

perches, waiting.
My fingers are
cold blue and numb.

Sun off the snow
is blinding, yet
hope will go on

into darkness,
as we do not
give up, those who

leave these seeds for
others, those who
gather them up.

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