Velvety embers stroked into the feel of a warming, un-numbing glow
A million little twinkles of myopic vision- encrusted, fire particle jewels
Purple and green and all that’s in between
Dry burns the branch that hung from the low enough bough
Its not cold, just a shiver chill
Swallowing the night air, not always the bitter pills
Yet. Again. A meandering wander of the mind. I think . I feel. I tuck in my cold heel.
Rambling again, the thoughts talking inside the head, enclosed in whispers.
Here, I am me. But it’s not like a part that’s still there, will cease to be.
The nagging thorns, the sudden spurts of energy or withdrawal.
That lingering taste of acidic, tongue burning, truths and lies.
The bittersweet symphonies I left behind.
Its healthy though , too much not to read.
Into the scenes and behind them,
Today, tomorrow, maybe a month into the life of this well watered , growing tree.
Its better still, to let ebb and flow. Bask in that glow. Slow burns always smoke.
Let it be.
