That I Might Find Them
In the milder seasons, I slow my ride and scan the horizon, with hopes and prayers that I might find them.
They told me you were stillness: the lake with no wind, the held breath, the shut door, the white and waiting room where nothing is allowed to move.
Begin readingIn the milder seasons, I slow my ride and scan the horizon, with hopes and prayers that I might find them.
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