Winter feels like a lover that cannot leave. Claiming a stake on the last days of its seasonal affair.
The light of this morning has found me with a head that seeks soothing.
The hours of this morning have found me with veins that want poetry.
The heart of this morning has found me sitting with all of the beauty and smashed hope that our humanness will save us and not destroy us.
Tell me, how has the light of this morning found you?
(Full poem text can be found here)