falling snow muffles sight and sound, and the screams from the monster next door
the first whiff of spring stirs long frozen memories that still have to wait
they’re on the table together but they are not equally enjoyed
eventually everything is reduced to its base level
a bird of prey dines on squirrel while the victim’s friends play in the shade
often forgotten some of us patiently wait until we’re needed
if we keep it closed it is no longer a gate it is now a fence
it seems we’ve forgot in our rush to opine that silence is golden
we see the warning but do we understand it? is thin dangerous?
those who came before will sometimes leave small markers to show us the trail
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