A Pale Scrawl
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Those who share the hum

2/6/2017

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Picture
Sacred circles and ley lines
Inept words for our inexplicable places
Where people and things
Unfit elsewhere
Find comfort


We end up here by accident
A confluence of unforeseen events
Steering us
And our disbelief
To make a life we never imagined


We gather
Secular
To pray to each other
In twilit cold
Warming feet and spirits
By logs that hiss with unspent moisture
Smoke lingering
In hats and mittens for days
Our cheeks glow pink on the ice


There is magic here
Something about us
Recognizable only by those who share the hum
Notes in the chord
The wind carrying our song


Listen closely
You might hear us
Or dream of pointed red hats
Parading in twos and threes
Down an ordinary small town street







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