Magnetic Poetry Saturday

my garden heaves her

last bit of sweetness

as the cool beauty of

death whispers to her

urging her to sleep…

to dream of spring

I am not dazzled by

broken gods and

fool-hearty men who

must be surrounded by

all-embracing prisoners

of fear to feel whole

keep trusting in

the goodness of

others even if it is

hard to see….I

believe it’s always

there, waiting to care

every path is thick

with followers but

wanderers leave fresh

tracks through the wild


Magnetic Poetry

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