Perhaps it’s not so smart to put my own poem/writing right after that collection of some of my favourites, but I found this in a folder:

I overindulged last night – in self-pity and other sticky, twilight things, 
and now I wrestle with a dry throat and wonder at this bee 
that keeps circling around me – it must be lost, it is still winter
and there is no colour in this place but green, green, green until this winter ends.
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