The gloom
Husk fallow
And wind shucked
Spinning on
Frozen silk
Gathers around it
A rattle
Gold worthless
Even mold spot
Arrested
Low hung
The stars
Are tripped
Premature
Shorting
Their cheer
A cold morning
Late to wake
Sleeps restive
And shallow
Racing its breath
On glass
Polished silver
Puddles expand
Breaking roads
Into oceans
Deep riven fires
The gloom dimly
Piercing
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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