Wasps buzzing in figs,
a sharp sting for the sweetness
that gods claim to own.

Tired, dry, sick, and yet
the snow has never stuck
so wet
instead, it rains
or snows and melts
forget the muck
the pain is felt
without the Winter to deflect us.

burning in the cold,
breath heavy and thick like clouds
that keep us apart

A breath held;
a mollusk in the sea,
its shell
so small and fragile,
overtaken
by the wild ocean in a great, swirling motion.

It will be empty now.

Silence is a gateway to eternity.

Let peace unfold.

In the same way that rain sometimes eludes dense clouds,
poetry sometimes eludes my mind, bursting with imagination,
leaving me yearning for heavenly inspiration.