Degrees like minutes
momentarily we see
gathering thin air.
Painting by John Constable, 'Study of a cloud sky', c. 1825, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
And we wake up to a new day, the world crumbling around us. We try to put the pieces together, nothing makes sense- or fits- and yet everyt...
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