sparrow song

[vintagestory]

old man winter
                        (silent but heavy-footed)
rifles through his ammunition
    and barrages us with gales and lighting.
we are sparrows
                      braving winter's tempered knuckles,
only to cave to
                  butterflies and primroses mixing potent
                  in our warm bellies.

we lay,
         - hearts flitting, beating brittle wings -
in the only spot winter
        has not yet stumbled upon.

your profile reminds me
                          of the eastern coast
and i find myself in libraries 
                                and book stores,
running my fingers along atlas pages

imagining.

(eye to telescope:
                                 winter now has both eyes closed)

we were accidental
             our grey that took over the world
                    i nestle into sea-cliffs
and wait for summer to change our colour

------

something relatively recent that makes me happy i am writing again.

otherwise, we are almost four months into being married and it's lovely. today is our three-year anniversary of meeting and beginning this life together. and i am home alone, wandering the halls and trying to write, and he is at work, wishing he was here instead.

i miss the online me that i left behind so long ago. i wish i could find her again, i will try. but i am not expecting much.

xo;