not-quite Journaling, 27
2022
slithers in
under
a bleak cape of clouds
it
ripped out
of
2021’s rotting grip.
Souls
start suffering
the
loss (2021 took so much),
then
they look beyond the fear,
(Behind 2022’s
darkest cloak)
and
they see
a
spark… perhaps
the
sun.
1/4/2022: My Piano Man, the not-so-Little Princess and I had a nice New Year’s Eve—we cooked, we ate, we watched the first episode of The Book of Boba Fett, and we stuffed our faces with grapes (for luck!) as the as the Times Square ball dropped. It was a good night. So, that is the spark I choose to see, since 2022 decided to arrive sunless.
In 2022, Enkindle!
On
fresh snow
an oak
leaf conjures
autumn
dreams,
under
naked limbs
decked
in winter lace.
winter’s
bones
can
spring the brightest
shoots
of hope
After
the
storm,
a
sweet William
dares
to spring through
winter.