hungry branches
stripped of leaves
reach their fingers
to the empty gray skies
along the silent roadways of winter,
there is a barren beauty
in their snow-covered limbs,
the reassurance they provide:
there are still four seasons -
we haven't yet
wiped them from the Earth -
it is stark
it is beautiful
there is peace
it is home
Month: September 2024
At Work
what stands before you,
the weight upon you,
it is not personal,
the world is not conspiring
against you,
you have not been chosen;
we are but specks
of the finest dust,
we are just part of the machine;
the obstacles we face
are the circumstances
of living a life,
I can still take the air
there is breath in my lungs,
I am nothing
I have choices
I am free