Long Winter
A scarred hand
throws another log
onto the fireFlame booms
and risesOrange light on a boar’s tusk
mud-chinked walls
human hillocks breathing
under piled furs and skins.Outside,
the old winds howl.Where are we now?
Where are we now?
Written mostly before the events today in Boston (and we are all safe, and were nowhere near), but seems not inappropriate. Love and energy to all impacted by that, or any other hardships, always.
ceoln 