Exposed again
Exposed again
Beneath a blue
drenched winter sky,
a cloud floats on by
like sifted flour.
I peer out,
as if perched below
a table, gathering each breath
so as not to reveal myself.
Looking, searching
—scanning the clock of the
day’s minutes ticking by,
I am mindful of harvest.
Harvest is so far away
yet, only yesterday,
I recall its savory abundance.
Just now,
the lofty branches rustle
—the wind lifts their stately limbs.
Do they, the steadfast trees,
recall the season?
Their leaves, once a designer’s
jacket, the artist left
no name…
the garment whisked away.
Exposed, the nakedness of
this ‘time’ understands no shame.
Beneath a blue
winter sky,
white flour, flakes of snow,
land on a table.
I crawl out from beneath.
A banquet preparing itself…
and I, blessed to be a
welcomed guest.
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