Footsteps

 

Stumbling to tomorrow

stone void, off course moon;

somewhere there’s a shining

 

white light flare.

 

Touch, touch trees

colour ruddy spring breeze

over mountain.

 

Blind side clear

dropping into valley

where old friends gather.

 

Somewhere there’s a shining

joy augmented from years

of distillation

 

into liquid fire:

where you turn

& wait for me.

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