bitter is the wind
yet bright are my eyes--
unabashed, unhindered
by every cloud's disguised light.
bitter is the wind
yet fettered are my feet--
planted, bolstered
by the buried greens of heaven's last storm.
bitter, this wind
because it eats every fear
with no place to dispose its own fears:
seasonally quelled,
seasonally angered.
bitter is the wind.
i should give it something sweet.
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