Poetry Journal January 25, 2024
Snow, then rain, then more rain after a long cold spell, we seem to reach out with icy fingers for a spring we don’t yet deserve – always looking ahead for something just so beyond our reach, believing we deserve it, thinking we have even earned it, the apple we know we should not eat, we know ultimately will rob us of what we want and still we bite into it, worms rather than serpents, though when all is said and done, both bring about the same sense of exile, leaving us one brief taste of what w thought we had before our world changes and we must go back to the struggle, day after day after day.
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