Lassù in Montagna

Grass clung to the ground
between the shaking hills,
Desperate, with men lying
in their gentle limbs.

Air cried with the wind,
Torn beneath a distant sun,
Breathless tears to salt
the freshly seeded flowers,

Scenting and blending
with spices poured from a cup;
How life tried
through darkened fires.

Steel howled in open sky
and behind rumbling rocks,
Ricochet of noise and
silent prayers for above.

Winter has crumbled,
Leaving behind the cold.
Empty streets echo
with coats and thick breath.



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