Freakishly Warm
I like an empty trash basket.
It tempts me to fill it with wads of wasted effort
In a futile attempt to write the words
That will finally win your heart.
Perhaps when hell freezes over,
But it’s a freakishly warm day in mid-December.
When the offering basket is full
Of ardent vulnerabilities
I'll dump it out, count my blessings,
And start over.
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