Posted in Poetry

Unseasonable

From the depth of winter, a deluge of rain uncovers the ghosts of our garden beds, rising up from the fog…

Unearthed, a single leaf catches a ride on a frigid wind, nestling itself into a crevice of snow.

Later, it reappears–a ghost of itself–ashen white, rooted in a bank, flapping in the winter sun.

K. Salasin

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Author:

Lifelong educator, writer, yoga & yogadance instructor.

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