May pole

raw beauty from the Feathered Sleep

TheFeatheredSleep

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A fever

came like a dream

stealing what was thought to be real

for a time inhabiting that uneasy place

between what we know and what we are unsure of

swapping masks

changing faces

like wolves chewing through

fabric of the known and the illusion

we usually pay heed to

until a strong wind

blows us from familiar

back to our cradles

we began here and will close once more

like a book of our life

were it known

could start and finish

with the same

set of words

returning like childhood

we chase our tails

around the may pole

catching dappled sunlight

on our shoulders

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