Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Soft Day

Fog settles low
enfolding the rawness
of newly formed wounds

The branches of autumn trees,
laid bare
and braving the season’s new chill
Leaves yellow, crumple,
fall to the ground,
wetly melt into the earth.

A soft day,
until the sun pushes through
a burning glare
stripping away the blankets,
here to heal
to reveal some possible truth
to keep the slashed hillside from staying
mired in the fog

© 2007 Roisin Hotaling

(Inspired by events in SL, and by a RL trip to the coast to process them)

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