Nov 17


Those crackling mornings when the frost holds its breath,
Bring back the girlhood unceremoniously dumped in the muck. 
A glee wrapped up in scarf and coat,
Family with the frozen dewdrops. 

It’s still an isolation, 
But one by choice. 
The church bells call out in this lonely field, 
The last place on earth! 
They cry- you have the freedom to ignore it

This peace won’t last the spring. 
Once you’ve made your peace with that, 
You can bury yourself in the snow. 
Your own liminal paradise