poetry by j matthew waters

present tense

what remains is what remains
once the riptide disrupts the flow

winter snow dissolves into thin air
revealing what was thought to be dead

north wind arrives before the dawn
energetic and surprisingly warm

fingers and toes begin to wiggle
deep inside the belly of the creator

there is comfort in barren trees
supported by the richness of the earth

fear not the ghostly new moon rising
giving reason to breathe yet again

december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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