Holocene Epoch: The Age of Mankind

Bare limbs emboss
a worried sky; moody January
never makes promises.

No matter the season,
we wrestle with wisdom
and whim.

Some things
like poems and old dreams
return to us in sunsets.

Almost adept at walking upright,
we are noted for stumbles
and for getting up again.

Wind tossed
we wander, sometimes
touching fingertips.

2 thoughts on “Holocene Epoch: The Age of Mankind

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