Living

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Living

looks like fragility,

petalled purity

daring to open.

Living

smells like hope,

tenuous aroma

wafting on brittle breeze.

Living

tastes like cherries,

sun-ripened,

escape-the-frost

and bitter-sweet,

fruit wrapped

around a stubborn pit.

Living

feels like

sun and shadow

and windswept chaos,

grace and worms

and the promise

of a cherry pie.

Knowing and Believing

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Dates and calendars herald Spring’s approach.

She knows it will come –

she believes in the Oracle

who promised Winter’s demise.

But knowing

and believing

leave her cold today,

in the shivering places

where soul must hang in the tense balance

between what is and what will be.

Reality is,

while her rescue is certain,

her ‘now’ is cold,

her present wrapped up in ice.

She must find a way

to keep her hope warm

until she can sing

Winter’s dirge…