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The Mist of Mine Eyes

The tingle of my spine runs alongside the river.
The autumn cardinal is quiet since leaving the nest of summer.  
Overcast sky’s leave me in a fog of remembrance.  
Where do these memories come from?  
  
The bones in my fingers let me know it’s going to rain.  
The mania and depression sweep over the gulches in my mind.  
I find my creativity is dormant in the depths of my conscience.    
In keeping the wolf from the door I put the teapot on to boil for evening tea.  
   
While I taste my tea, cobwebs live in the corners of my mouth.  
I catch a spider crawling across my desk and let it go.    
Live another day little creature for nighttime has fallen.  
   
With the dampness of a coming storm I shiver.  
I brought in some carrots from the garden for the stew.    
Dinner will be ready soon enough.  
   
Soon the winds of winter will be upon us.  
A time to reflect with old man winter.  
And another reason to look skyward in a standstill.
Written by Elenore
Published
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