Things I Don’t Say

This time of day,

this golden cast light of

low-slung cold sun

The author, breathing in the snow and golden light. Photo cred: self.

steeps me in

melancholy.

I breathe, eyeing the

pruned back

hydrangea,

now bare,

gray-brown sticks.

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gae polisner

Just another writer trying to stay afloat in a sea of words. Author of several novels. Wannabe mermaid. Mother. Trying to age gracefully with no grace in sight.