End of Year

End of Year

End of Year 3264 2176 Anne McMaster

From here, you can see the fabric of the year
scuffed raw and worn thin
around a grey horizon’s fine and unforgiving rim.
Today the sun is light and empty; nothing more.
Sudden gusts of desolate, bitter wind
busy themselves along the weakening edges of the moment;
delving in – seeking to loosen – then to pry
all that holds them from the remnants of the day.
The desiccated husks of time
are borne up – gossamer-thin, translucent –
rising, loose, in tattered fragments
towards an abandoned sky.

Header photograph © Jon Ransom.

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