PIACULAR’S CRY

.

Dark mist rising,

Drum beneath a keening sky

This scent of loam, of leaf, of yearning,

Of memory’s wail

And piacular’s cry...

Evanescent expiation,

Yearning’s lusts abhorred.

Penitential rumination,

But no solace nor a respite

Nor understanding toward…

Revisit and addition to an old friend during this forced virus pause.

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