that's mrs. mediocrity to you

snow falls gently through a sky bleeding sunshine

through the closed door i hear geese
warming their way through a morning
most of them will survive

i cling to small things. moments, really
and wish i could gift them to you

i know a whole list of people with that name

the miracles gather and hover
hoping to land, gently

winter is coaxing autumn to bed
with an ever-changing quilt
of cozy promises

a patch of blue peeks through worn cotton batting

needs no mending

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