Random Thoughts Indexed

icicle

        the simple pleasures
        a glass of water, a blade of grass
        somehow seem like tasks

        in this cave so decorated
        with all the intertwining thorns
        a harness that once felt so warm

        sunlight filtered through the frost
        icicles that drip drip drip
        and grow long through the dark night

        1/11/97 - 4 AM

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© Huw Powell
humanthoughts.org

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