Here where winds confess to stone and sunlight vestiges in shadows of a storm in evening’s past, wordless remnants of the poem’s winter stanzas written in the painted gulf of cliffs eroding moment after moment overlooked; here where dawn slips mute across a wounded face the touch of warmth admitting only briefly to the colder day ahead, where step by step ablated footholds trail a sun unsettled and the truant season’s light corrodes the way; here where night breaks slowly this mirage of days alluding somehow youthfully to wisdom come of age, here is where the greenest grass takes hold for but an instant in the pleasant heat before the cold returns, and here is where despite the spring the winds will sing of gray.

#IndependanceMine #Alaska

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