My heart knows the difference.
Is there an and/or in my future?
This is a smooth Monday.
Boots muddy, laced tight.
My shadows are absent.
Is it fog or wood smoke
beneath the cabbage
against the crust of ice
my fingers search
for an open spot
where they died
stories disappearing.
I study the octopus ice
and also the eyes of this creature
here a tentacle there a piece.
Winter branches not touching.
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