Cy DILLON

SEASONAL

Yes, I have held to the calm sterility of winter
The peace that is near death
Near nothing

When the short days leave time
For watching Orion
On his silent stalk across the night

When the frantic rush of life is hidden
Just below the frost line
In the patient dark

Old bones carry the memory of earth
But the flesh on them knows only motion
Moving like always

Toward the light it loves.

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