I’ve not seen anything built so strongly as
the crushing greyness of the waning
winter hours. As though the great gurgling
of Spring is hushed by a diluted punishing
lack of light; the voice of time had very little
left, and all of us feeling its weight,
are tightly packed into our seclusions searching
through the greyness for the smallest of exits.
-M. Taggart
Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe
photo taken 3/5/21
mtaggartwriter 