I place the paper

out where I can

see it in passing

Days go by

waiting for the

precipitation that


came as barometric

shift somehow gauged

in this weathervane


Words start popping

through like vestiges

of a spring-like rain,


in this winter of winter-

day, warming and fragrant

worn like undergarments

in a drafty house


to the Knowing Emptiness

Please add your comment, thoughts, or reflections. Would you like to? Thanks! --Janice

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