The washed out color
of the December sun.
Grief in the long gone September.
Purity was analog.
The best that we had to offer,
wilted,
died,
and lays now,
frozen
beneath the snow.
The dearth of clouds
only reflects
the emptiness
of hard headed love.
The kind that strips back
the fawning, false
charade
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.
Nature;
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.
Orion,
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
