ice time outside
withdrawal from exhuberance
warmth and hope within

feeble solstice sun
at most a mere dim glow
an ember's heat withheld

time slips in and out
of our awareness
a ghost in the machine

from snowless skies
a winter of cold rain
a season unfulfilled

self-knowledge warps
That which you knew now
becomes something else

strung sliding beads
slow flow of drops descend
spring's gifts splash

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Index of new writing © 1999-2000 Thomas Coleman

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