Apr 17 2007
A Long Winter is Heavy
It’s too abstract, I know, but today, I don’t really care: Spring and winter have skewed. Yesterday’s budding leaves dry out, become withered old fists, while once-pink blossoms freeze to their limbs. Thirty-two souls are adrift on the wind, the thirty-third sinks to earth, leaves an oily black stain. The chill wind bites again. Now, […]