At some point,
Lamentations cease,
And what remains
Beyond control
Simply is.
Immersing in the
Moment rings with
It’s own beauty
And immortality.
Cold wind washes
Across the crusted snow,
The angle of the sun
Awkward in its
Springtime stance.
Leaving behind
Wishing life were
Different
Bares a peace
Admirable in
It’s permanence.
