For Words

mouse under snow
Cars approach, cold beams
of light stabbing,
searching over folds of snow.
The dog, her nose to the ground
sniffing, searching out small
movements. In the distance,
a train whistle, like the
forlorn wail of some
lonely beast, searching the night
for another like it self.
Seeking only some small comfort,
a mouse under the snow
searching, sniffing for a
seed. And I, searching
for the words that describe,
my angst at always
seeking, feeling in the dark.
For words.

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