when the sun comes back around

And now the first hardness forms; the crinkle paper tissue firmament on the water – The cracking of the first ice cooling together at the end of this autumn / the slashes in the shapes that form like broken stars ebbing towards one another / and here the leaves still hold their gold : the sun still flecks through the quickly chilling air ; but my hands quiver and my foolish heart knows not one ray of light from the other ; but still hunts for endless summer, still begs for the day to rise longer, truer ;; this growth is like an up-ended backbend ; it doesn’t feel like growth at all ; feels like cutting off limbs and letting them sink into the ice tipped water / strength is something I am told to have / love is something I will never not feel in every cell of my body like some endless curse I am always walking in / the ground is covered in gold too – now the fallen just resting in puddles – everything that was created this year resting now silently on the ground – about to molt together into one another in the icy blush of burrowing away into the old soil and the new; to be reborn again when the sun comes back around ; when the sun comes back around ;;

and me I twist my soul to the sky – try to air it out – try to let it fly again ; and me I resemble this soft pale November cloud ; I float, grazing the atmosphere, touching blue, I do not belong in this sky / and here just the crunchy tips of the water fold their hands together, Make solid what was once liquid ; but still, it is liquid just underneath the fine filament of hardness that is crusting on the top – the hardness that is making star shapes splinter across what used to flow in the wind; and remains now still ;  silent ;

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