That is such an intent look on the sculpture.
I would be quite tempted to turn and see what the artist had them looking at... X
hibernating in a winter glaze could be healthy
it's the season
for icy grey clouds
and endless rainy days
when looking through a window
rugged in some old blanket
is a special kind of joy
long missed
writing away
the endless script for pain
is a medication
I know
guaranteed
to cool the fickle fever of
mandatory mayhem
and
confronting the dark seas of many yesterdays
means
I need to start swimming
or at least
tread water
there is
no rainbow
no island on the horizon
just a spot of late afternoon light
on some flimsy blossom
that doesn't know that
autumn leaves
are still hanging on the branch
in the scheme of things
it could be a melancholy light
but I won't let it be
instead
at last
for a little stargate in time
I can break the hold of
alarms and protocols
and connect with the spirit of Emily Dickinson
and smile
