In my morning tent
the flaps still zippered
I wake in the chill
sitting up, I draw my cocoon around me
and I see

my fabric floor is splayed
with linear palette
of rust, turquoise, mauve, orange, ochre

now I must unzip the flaps
and shed the cocoon
to find the author
of this thing unlooked for

I dress hurriedly, still cold
and part the canvas curtains
stunned, I stand
in these organ chords of light

straggling snowflakes settle
seeping into my denim
I do not move at all
the chill matters not
nor does the camera
dangling loosely at my side.


Painting “Radiant Sky”  is by Erin Hanson

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