the Cimmerion season

cloudy skythere is no easy way through
no super moon 
or wayside
diner
with brats and hot coffee
 
the storm is too fickle
for that
 
there’s just me
in my raincoat
and
duck boots
trying not to slip into
1/2 fallen branches
and mud
 
and praying
the waterproofing
i spent years on
will hold
 
it’s a Cimmerion season
the moon
is possessed
by the fog 
 
the rowdy tree
canopy 
has convinced me
i still have some vision
 
finally
finally
 
i know again
what faith feels like
 
 
 
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