Toward Spring

Image by Susann Mielke from Pixabay

A fat cloud is pierced
by the last light, as the moon
rises. Leaves fall
where dark shadows
sit like old men,
huddled from the cold.
My garden lies
under winter snows.
I think of the graveyard,
buried in snow,
where your body lies,
alone under the indifferent sky.

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