I wait on the world to change, along with everyone and everyTHING else. This winter has been my first conscious venture in depression. With help, therapeutic and chemical, I watch the ice melt off the burning bush and anticipate green.
Through the snow:
A patch of brown grass
Next to the ash tree.
The ice has melted
Off the bare burning bush.
There is mud
On the driveway.
I too
Am brown and bare
And muddy.
We all
Wait for green.
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