The swollen air spirals through January
thickening time
as if kneaded
dough
rising…
flattened then broken, baked and served.
* * * * * *
Your laughter splits the silence
fizzy ice sound
on a brittle morning cold
travelling to Florence by train.
Mystery lingers in a corner of this day
that I kick like an empty can on the road
swish….Arrival!
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