"It’s still winter here"


It’s still winter here

The world’s suspended

muted by sunless thoughts

like puffs of damp cottons in my ears

All too familiar empty smiles

surroundings and past

silent colorless ice plunges

into spiral wind, sliding

muggy snow

Solitude

See, the swallows

flew away

long time ago

I can’t remember now

But If they’ll stop flying

perhaps they’ll move on

-one day

Except, listen..

with their clipped wings

they won’t move at all

Yesterday

they sung in unison

dressed with eternity

Uncaring of winter presages

embracing,

so willing to fall

Until the wind shifted

To unrecognizable chants of blue

uncovered truths

uncharted migration of being

I said: it’s still winter, here

yet all is the same

The earth has slowly sheltered the fallen leaves

with melancholic tenderness

under pale moons, fog

rain and clouds

Even a frozen lake

keeps the undercurrents imprisoned,

unmoving, untouched


poem & photography by Marco Pignataro



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