Winter

Winter,

my spindly-fingered

skeletal nemesis.

You will not

take my essence.

I will fill the short dark days

with what George called

The Inner Light.

My spiritual lumens

will illuminate the joint,

brightening the corners,

where doubts and fears linger

like the heady aroma

of bacon Supernoodles.

B.R. 5.3.24

Picture of Toulouse by B.R.