November Hoar

During this seasonal ill, stone
stands out in debossed relief,
the world having gone chill
and soil swelling itself above.

This puffery is blustered illusion.
My other shoe will drop
to crush the empty, brittle dirt
and tread upon unmoved rock.

And when this bitter winter ends
what scattered soil does remain
shall settle in once more around
tempered and perseverant stone.

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