The Casual Snap of Branches Underfoot:

 

Looking through a box of old black and white photographs, I find myself drifting into a river of loneliness and I know you feel the same way when you think about our shared trauma on Wild Cherry Lane. I often see you in the moving branches of lazy soft willow and I am ravenous like a wolf looking for a resolution to my own disaster. The dichotomy of your comfort and your unwavering sorrow reminds me of a salted honeyed scone shared between the burn of a Winter’s kiss and the anguish of a loving and colorful dawn. I know now that they were deliberate in their churning of shadows, but I still can’t find the sepia in my memory. Oh, how could I have moved forward without you? Or maybe, you were the one who ran first, or faster?

 

©️Winter Dawn Burns