deepundergroundpoetry.com

Disarray

There is a beauty in this disarray of
winter tree limbs.
Most of us will shudder a somber sigh.
Flung upward
to the indifference of the December sky.
A few will grin at the year's demise.
Bark, nakedly aches to be dressed.
While our yearning pulls at New Years end,
to guess, our next.
My veins in disarray with a core ache to inhabit my soul's winter den.
To detangle the chaotic with tinsel and zen.
To begin is also to end.
Written by deliabear (Debbie)
Published
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