Home

clouds behind the trees

Of weather searching for the signature

correcting for the miasma

of the crooked wind season

folding in on time

The supreme seer

picking apart the covenant

between nature and that

hallowed sometimes

hollow heart of hope

Warmth is king

the predictor wears the crown

to the end of the world

of cold

Today,

like a preacher

taking God

From the forests

setting her up

in a house of his own

The diviner daring

audacity to

recapture imagination

with warm words

Scattering tepid halos

upon the heads of

Farmers

Flowers

Lovers  and

The remianing

Unanointed:

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