The Waning

  
The ground is sodden

from days 

and nights

of unrelenting rain.
Now, pools of cold water

layer paths

and you walk gingerly

to avoid icy feet.
You keep walking the path

through the persistent

curtains of rain

and the ominous steel gray sky
Because there is no choice.

Would you prefer 

the cheery warmth of 

a fire in the hearth

and jingling songs?
Yes. 

But that is not your path.

As this old year wanes with

weakening light
You take nothing for granted.

You know this without doubt and 

in your bones:

each breath is a 
blessing. 

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