across the town
the chastening begins
stripes of frost
the sun can’t reach
at the far end of the lawn
and if the
world takes it all back
and begs to be
forgivenand throws around itself
masses of huddled ice
wishes of muffled snow
to walk out on
like a mystic
on a lake
through which
a line sinks downto the depths where certainty
is found eating its own frown
then this is also love methinks
make no mistake it breaks
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