Cold snap. A fog-borne day.
The house kept settling
like distant thunder,
but at some point
weariness edges out
fear. It will be
or it won’t, either
easily arrives
on its own–
Sisyphus, let it roll
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OPTIONAL POETRY 
I love how the last line lightens the mood, but just slightly. Laissez les bon temps roulez.
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Natural-sounding. Simply a beautiful poem.
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Thank you, Tiegan!
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“Sisyphus let it roll”!!! Fantastic.
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Thanks!
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