Day 977, still reflects.
Alone, a long walk
the dark branches spread forwards
the moon still reflects.
Day 976, to reflect.
The wind is silent
some last clouds move tomorrow
for you to reflect.
Day 975, nothing.
My mirror likeness
stares now deep into my eyes
and I see nothing.
Day 974, dig in.
Human division
closed doors, nothing to digest
and time to dig in.
Day 973, your shadow.
An empty still life
once the bearer of your cloak
casting your shadow.
Day 972, away from me.
Morning comes this time
silent, in hazy gestures
moving away from me.
Day 971, superb.
The last sun, deludes
my own mind glares, feverish
the cold is superb.
Day 970, in mist.
