The Ecstasies of Absence

It’s almost 70 degrees here in Northern New Jersey. Therefore, I decided to craft my own wintery Christmas.

Merry Christmas to all.

The Ecstasies of Absence

Wind sweeps

from the ground,
dusting the air

with crystal.
Sparrows seek

peace beneath
the pine boughs,

curl into the warmth
of their hearts.

The silver

that mingle near
the old fence

fade deep
into the afternoon,

their pale skin

with white
flurries of cold.

Like the sparrows,
each tree comprehends

the ecstasies
of absence.


2 thoughts on “The Ecstasies of Absence

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