February 22

February 21, 2015
by C
comments 4
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Writing as a landscape,
a warning–

don’t mistake placidity
for peace.

It could be that
the stillness of the trees

is self-imposed,
the dormant volcano,

disciplined;
though tired

of being a backdrop,
too tired

to do much else
but stay,

glacial,
to wrinkle the horizon

with creases
the same non-hue

as a day-moon,
elusive,

barely showing up
in photos.

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