Blackberry Winter


I lay me down

and exhale softly

into the blackberry winter,

hands still stained

from the fights

of before,

while my breath

is a curlicued plume

rising in question marks

above my head;

the ground is hard below me

yet I know that

seeds grow from the

frozen soil of reveries,

and while the land

around me

may be cold and dormant,

beneath this skin

runs a river of hope,

and we are destined

to bloom again

in the spring.

©️ j.sexton

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