’tis the season


i saunter and skip
nature’s crayon box containing at least 64 colors,
occasionally stumbling
into a hole
where the turning
my perception,
my empathy,
my compassion.

(and maybe, just maybe
the turning
twists my ankle, too
but that’s far too specific
and not nearly
poetic enough to be the point.)


1 Comment

  1. Anonymous

    I keep thinking of the little sharpener on the side of the box of crayons. The crayon goes into the hole and, after a few turns and the loss of a few layers, comes out sharper. I think you’re on to something (as usual).

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