[PSC] Stacy

[rianon early]

The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
Life, or only joy, that stands out
Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,
Glimmering of light:
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe
Away, my songs, must we go
In realms of dingy gloom and deep crevasse
Traces of those deep cuts lie thickly upon
Merely a mockery of spring
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
At these masses the snow hides from me.
And beyond, the same sound of bees
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
Between the high and the low, in this night.
to restaurants for Early Bird Specials.
Looms in the air, deliberate and slow,

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