There
are moments in a life
or
in a year or in a day
when
thought recesses,
coalesces
– nestles soft into
half-sleep
within the faint
light
of an inner sight:
as
luminous as day looks
in
a dream but deeper
than
the night. Though
it
may sigh like a cessation,
it
is more a germination:
breath
just brushing death –
gently,
like a breeze invoking
Spring in February freeze..
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