Flight To Winter
Winter flies long after
the skies drain; of blooms that still
carry her wings, memory though
s n o w f a l l i n g
the white sail bloom of her eyes; but
knowing browns inevitable; vines take turns tripping
the pale staircase outside, neither really going upward
at all; e v e r
moving within, clinging boughs; perched on my new lichen
flesh, fasts a sparrow with still winter-full stomach;
she says with the fear of a child
...s t a y h e r e
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