Ambedo

Ambedo

This morning I got lost in ambedo.
Rain on windowpane,
puddling a stain
on my resting soul.
Rivulets washed away
cold winter’s grip,
bruised sunshine drip;
its hold tentative, frayed…
Icy pangs quicksilver;
now softened to Spring thaw—
a hint of damp huzza—
yet days forward still a mere blur.
Today’s hold in these stark drops
or tomorrow’s clear release – stop.

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