poetry by j matthew waters


you are tired
but not broken
gathering your strength
for seven eight nine days now

eventually you decide
to make a sound
a lowly dog growl
a lonely bird in a naked birch
in a late october afternoon

but nobody sees you
and you retreat
back into the shadows
the orange sun
sinking fast

you open the palms of your hands
and give thanks

you open the door
and discover there is even more

december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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