walking empty streets

in a late season snow, alone — where

have we all gone? what in heaven’s name

have we done?

this unnatural natural

silence, the distant cry of geese

returning, desperate for a place

to land

a single light in a room at the back

goes dark, while the herd comes down

from the mountains, begins to reclaim

its place. fitfully

we sleep and dream of morning

breathing our wordless prayers

for warmth

for the resurrection of spring

for a second new covenant

for one last chance

to do better

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