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#NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 8

Remnants of Shock

Withered branches, bony fingers,
scrape a sea of forever cloud.
Ash falls in soft snow clumps,
embracing land with quiet tenderness.

Look down, to where knotted roots
erupt from the carpet of grey.
Imperceptible at first, your eyes
adjust: new scattered flecks of green.


All the poems I wrote last year are available for free as an ebook. Download them here.


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