Red caps. Dented triangular piles of clay.
Dancing. Their hanging tips revolving.
Circling. Round and round the opening
Daisies. Their gravity pulling young white
Feathers. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling them out.
Circumcising a sun with brutal grace. Detailing
Nature's god with an elaborate lace collar.
Praising the sacrifice. Holding her prisoner.
Waiting for first light to bring new hope.
For a fresh dew to settle. Wash their feet.
They will stay. They will wait. They are hers.
Clothed in faux leather, beating the ground.
Rhythmic tramping. A voice of earth rising.
Beating. Beating. Broken wood into mud.
Rituals keeping tempos in check. Holding back
Deep black guillotine arms. Even Death laughs.
Bites his tongue. Bides his time. Deftly Chuckling.
The first snow falls. Silent. Soft. Slow. Smothering.
One.
Two. One.
Breathe.
Guardians of life. Ever watchful. Standing.
Red caps tilted to the ground in reverence.
Stone faces. To turn away the night's Silence.
Waiting for her stone to melt away. Green life.
Breaking through. Reaching up. Surviving.
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