No Sun; No Moon
thick creamy days dissolve
in dense charcoal nights
We need to generate it
Whatever’s called light
No hunt; no fight
No sheers; no white
faltering steps
scan sidewalks
eyes adapt slowly
to dusky shades
In witching hours
No day; No night
No horizon; no twilight
trust reinventing
habits melting
In unheard zones
shapes emerging
from depths unknown
No pits; no heights
No sky; no flights

Reena, I think you’re right, sight takes a back seat to other senses in this season, especially in places that don’t get snow.
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Thank you, Lisa!
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You’re welcome 🙂
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This made me think of a polluted sky… a bit like Mordor
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Pollution is slowly getting inseparable from nature.
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This is so atmospheric. I read it as a seasonal poem, but also as a commentary on mood, and on the state of the world. Lots of layers.
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Thank you so much, Sarah!
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Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Excellent take.
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Thank you so much!
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You’re most welcome
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Wonderful! 🤩
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Thank you so much!
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