Secret Ingredients
Hence
waiting for the train
a low mournful whistle drones
off in the distance
–
an iron sky
heavy snow falls
on distant peaks
Waste
stolen innocence-
inured to constant violence
and lost empathy
–
distant wildfires
a false sunset in
the eastern sky
New England
air laced with woodsmoke
thick with a rich silence as
the rain turns to snow
–
twilight
listening to
the snow fall
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