ambered dust.

In the distance,

where my eyes end,
ambered dust

flung,
chipped away

from this southern

dirt and stone

road,
with all its memories

dry and broken,
rains down

now, on those clouds
grey

with Spring.
Ambered dust

flung,
soaking them

in golden

hue around

the edges.
And my cheeks,

chipped away

from my face
by the wind

worn
on the sun,

they spread

and rain
thoughts

and memories
on the dry

and broken
road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_______________

ambered-dust

Photo: Jean-Michel HATTON

 

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