orgami's Diaryland Diary

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BRUSHBEDS

A crush of snow falls
this wind
carrying it aloft
and down
as soft
the melted
offering
touch
of another day
drawn thin
wavering
like a line
the lights through
the trees
dotting streets
scene
this bed of granite
scooped
for a bed
this soft grave
cold
cups with tender
fingers

awake
survivor
rolled
left with
pants sock
shirt and jacket
climb from the
dark pocket of
sticks
like tiny cathedral
towers clumped
above in their tangle
the angels sighing
the reeds of summer
caught in the ice
hissing
the greenery
their lush soft
lives have given

a massage as the
life may ebb
a sleep if all
and a wander
to the local pay
phone
the strangers
drawn by the shock
of those
come in from the wood
bringing with them the
spirits they sleep
amongst
the out there
land
from a path of many

..

11:50 p.m. - 2014-12-10

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