Paw Prints in the snow

I recognized my own panic
In the paw prints
Of a rabbit
Across the snow blanketed road
just before dawn.

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Into the mystery

The autumnal quiet
When all that’s left
Are pine needles and
A defenseless barren moor.
And the inflamed sky walks
Among pines, leaving
Bloody footprints among
Thorns. But I
Do not fear the quiet,
I do not need to hurry
Before dusk. I willingly
Poke holes
In my heart to let in
The night.

Softening

It was strange to see you
In these quiet days
Softening
Like the sun
In autumn.
Leaning into the
Growing wild
Like a shy Foehn wind
Curving charmingly
into the woods.
But I guess it happens
To all of us when we,
Like the golden dawn
Folding away the last
Remains of night,
Outgrow our dreams
And fold our ordinarity
Away.