wayfaring winter

©2022 Michael Raven

quenched flames
is it age or reason?

a draught from a cauldron
a breath of the wild spring
solitary blackthorn stones
& center, always a center

there is dust on my duster
a drifter in something once black
but weathered now & greyed
admittedly frayed
battered & broken
my boots need mending
soul worn through & through

winter fells with their
skeleton crews
black against
the drifting snow
a lone fox night barking