saying more

soggy, slippery, and soft

something here is thawing

i hadn’t even realized it was winter

though days indeed seemed short

the nights weren’t long enough

to dream

no heavy blankets tossed across the beds

sanctioning my burrow in the cover

pushed aside, i was pushing

buds, though i intended toward my roots

beneath, below the bustle

that belonged to spring, but

here i am, the spinning ceases not

for me to catch, and sudden warmth

feels right upon my skin

as i inhale this earthy fragrance

that i am, and now

i notice

something here is thawing

soggy, slippery and soft


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M.C. Reardon


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