Jane Woodman

Photo by Xiaolong Wong on Unsplash

Is this Winter?
This weighing down of hearts
Of souls almost lifeless
Awaiting what they fear to come?

Is this cold running through us
The cold of wet snow
Breaking branches
Turning to mud under our feet?

Is this the howling wind?
Is this the ice
That grasps us
Until we cannot breathe…

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Author’s beloved Snowball in his last summer

these are the days of music
of light from every corner
when even our neighbor who scowls
changes his porch light for red

it glows on the snow
deepening on his sidewalk
where tiny dogs pass by
in sweaters against the cold

our old deaf dog
curled tightly in his bed
rouses…

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Photo by Siddhant Soni on Unsplash

When fear and weakness, fear’s true face, combine
To harden hearts and undermine our sense
Of unity, thus seeking just to find
A way to lock ourselves inside the fence
Of our own selfishness, our own conceit
That tells us we are not that which we fear,
That our beliefs are permanent, complete,
Must never change, adapt…

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The Invisible Woman (author’s photo)

“Truth fails not,” a man once said
(Though honors soon went to his head).
As men grow older, truth grows hard,
Replaced by money and regard
Till, petrified with work long past,
Each falls to mumbling at the last,
While still believing that his voice
Is clear and strong. What is his choice…

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