Again, I have to ask myself,
is the persistence of snow
causing my sadness
or is the persistence of my sadness
causing the snow?

While I am hunkered down,
the birds flit between snowflakes,
unaware of their incongruous weight.
I should be out among them,
filling my belly, too, with seeds.



About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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One Response to Persisting

  1. pixieannie says:

    You have a blue window too…this is wonderful news. It looks bleak, even the orange wheelbarrow sulks. The snow is brutally honest and we both know that it’s a persistent little blighter. Warm toes.

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