Winter
by Morgan Haven-Tietze

You flow around me the way water shuns height.
Your guilty lulls fall away from me continuously
to black voids of rock. Words have holes and snares.

The snow outlines a fallen tree,
sap swelled and cracked, the heart of it splayed
a haven for wind and other motion,
a temporary space for things to pull back to.

The small animal digs gingerly, lives in the shade
of dirty branches. Love is towered over,
a seed undone by a rock.

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