Here is the one for today...for hair and sons.
-j
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It is winter
Your hair falls like snow
sometimes in flurries, sometimes in drifts.
It falls lightly outside my window.
Though my ear threatens deafness
and my heart is buried deep, inaccessible
as the iris bulb that waits in darkness,
the snow has somehow made it possible
for his music to move me - what often
Is a jangle of sound becomes a spill
of brief cleanness - and the words:
"live my life immaculate" hits like a cataract
runs as a chill river through my bones.
I ask forgiveness for my austerity
and these words come:
constancy is the most delicate of balances.