Poetic Interlude: The Long Winter

That was the long winter,
A discontent,
A darkness,
And as you passed the bones in your hands
Became knives to cut out sunlight
From blue skies

Stone ground cracked under
The weight of your feet
Their veins of granite spat blood
And we bathed
Cool and disinterested
At the feet of bleeding rock

Spring came stealthy
New shoots like fingers buried to the tips
Meant for hiding
I plucked them to keep Winter
But still they grew
Until the corpse of Spring could hide no more

Reluctant Summer grows heavy scented
Luxurious as warm arms
And your finger bones are buds
Burst into flower
Your feet touch not the ground
You pass silent, leaving the stones unbroken

And the rocks have quit their bleeding


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