Richard Dinges


Forgiveness lies not
in blank slate skies
cracked by dying
trees that tremble
when winter whispers
a chilled message
no one hears,
staring skyward,
faces frozen in dismay.
Only a single star
can be seen by day,
so many at night
uncounted. We long
to know what lies beneath
our soles, too timid
to disobey and shift
our steady gaze down.

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