Season of Instances
Aching cold in swirling grey,
damp, wet, sharp within the freeze.
The loud retort of battering winds.
But then the silence...
a soundless crystal expanse.
The timeless, endless halt
of all things storm and damage.
A pristine genisis emerges
on the knife -edge of the instant.
Copyright © Fran Delaney-Barron | Year Posted 2022
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