The washed out color

of the December sun.

Grief in the long gone September.

Purity was analog.

The best that we had to offer,



and lays now,


beneath the snow.


The dearth of clouds

only reflects

the emptiness

of hard headed love.

The kind that strips back

the fawning, false


and gives words

and deeds

that breed wild.


Simple as a song.

Crossed out

the names

and drew the plot lines.

Moved easily

through the first

big snow fall,

and the second.

Damned near unstoppable.



distilled into the soul

of a single purpose,

and God help us all,

because Nature

has no conscience.


Another cold morning.

Can’t decide if it’s better,

or worse,

or what.

The bar that at one time

held the price above our heads

is gone,

replaced now by cruel indifference.


Stars in the sky.


Ursa Major.

Cracks in the armor

show the light

seeping through.

There’s no more

of anything left.

No payback

for the past.



HG – 2021

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