through the frozen fields wolves prowl
I walk alone in the dark
afraid of each breath
true to the array before us
each crystalline spark
manifests its own harmony
we must walk slowly
through this field of fireflies
to feel these darkened wings
flutter across our faces
and alone
my eyes
well up
and I
for days
again a condensate forms on the glass
and a fog pulsates along the back fence
one of our cats slip between the pink ladies
hoping for more than our safe offering

from “Sonnet,” line 10, syllables 7-10)

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