is more often just fallow, I find.
Like the dark loamy chocolate brown ground where sparrows
witchy tree fingers, thin and bare
claws to the sky, throw up their digits in despair.
When will we produce again?
What use is this sleeping?
But we must share the sun with others
and conserve our energy, rest and replenish
Incubate to prepare for Spring.
Marinade our brains in air and time and love and pain
Until we are just
to begin to grow again.