The bonfires are built
On the edge of winter
Primed and waiting
For another beginning.
This little journey
Takes me away
To somewhere else
Somewhere between
This place and another,
This seen, small world
And the infinite.
My only limit is in the mist
Of my imagining.
And today, of all the days
She reaches out
Across the years
With all that love
And touches me
In all of the aged amber
Of an old oak leaf
Once so green and lustrous
Now wrinkled
Freckled
Gentle
And beautiful.

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