diary

I can smell the rain on the wind

the warmth in the air it lofts skyward,

soft and soughing.

Untame spring unfolds her wings,

sings in words I cannot yet hear.

There is existence and then there is existence.

Today I tremble because I am

afraid of both.

.

.

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“diary” has also recently been featured on another Muse’s website, accompanying some amazing art. Check it out here: http://febrilemuse-infectious-disease.blogspot.com/.

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