a long cold forbidding night the world crackles beneath echoing steps the frozen snow squeals underfoot shivering lost alone seeking what shelter can't be found ready to sit sleep surrender
a whiff of wood-fire a flicker barely seen spark of hope closer warmer
a clearing small band of kindled kindred souls the light and heat of warm words thawing icy heart a hot cuppa soothing a place to rest surrounded by those who saved their own lives cleared space gathered wood piled what little they had left and lit the last match they had
Happy World Poetry Day, y'all. Five years ago, a stumbling wanna-be crawled in. You have helped to mold the poet I am. Thank you.