Opening Fist

In the early dawn
as the fog begins to lift;
The train whistles blow
through the winter mist.

Ice crystals cling
to each branch with hope.

A delicate drape
of an evening cloak.

Only sun burns
through the morning veil.

Leaving branches
naked and frail.

Winter armor
slowly dissipates.

And the evening shadow
celebrates.

Sliver of moon
through the evening mist.

Carries me on
with an opening fist.

Cindy J. Buechler
Cindy J. Buechlerhttps://creativejeanblossoming.wordpress.com/
My Poetry, Photography, and Journals hold treasure from grade school to high school to adult school, which I'm still attending ... just waiting for the final grade. Each layer of life reveals a new truth and with age, it becomes apparent that time is my greatest rival. My hope is to reflect with words and pictures that offer comfort, insight, and wisdom for a life well-lived with peace and tranquility in the end.

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