behind the IGA
perimeter marked by snowfence
minus thirty plus windchill
I was kin
to Martin Luther

as he wandered home
through the forest
I imagine he was shot
by the brilliance of moonlight
on snow on stillgreen branches
and fell to his knees

you can't describe it
in a picture in words
so we took it home
him from the forest
the first time
me from behind the IGA
the twenty first time

I lost my breath

twelve white lights dancing
between branches
flickering from the wind
of singing o holy
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©Darusha Wehm  
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