Hiber nation

Barren time

is more often just fallow, I find.


Like the dark loamy chocolate brown ground where sparrows

swoop down

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

tender enough

to begin to grow again.


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