End of Yearhttps://i0.wp.com/barrenmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/IMG_4696-1.jpg?fit=3264%2C2176&ssl=132642176Anne McMasterAnne McMasterhttps://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/fdcf31ee581e61371c1a0d752cd07ef4?s=96&d=mm&r=g
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.