1 January 2024
Morning dawning gray
Everything shining and sad.
Drawn by neither sun nor moon
this day.
Tea leaves and saffron swirl
with cups of offering
renewed in the simplest of rituals
this way.
Bare trees cling
without shame to crumbling leaves.
What is next to go
this day?
“Raise your hands to the sky,
Let what needs to die, die” they say.
My heart opening so easily
this way.
Drawn
Shining
Dying
this very day.
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