Initiation
Moonlit
frost
furs
the night
in
white and sparkle.
Cars
creep to stillness,
tethered
to the spot
in
sandstone shadows.
Hard
air bristles nostrils;
waters
eyes.
Icy
tarmac threatens
to
break and bruise.
We
teeter.
The
golden doorway wants us;
beams
us in to welcome warmth.
Around
the table
fifteen
writers
yield
identities.
Frivolity
flows
in
gently bursting bubbles.
Minds
dig over
fresh
new beds of words.
The
author’s voice
imprisoned
while
opinions rally.
I
silently scrutinise
and
surely succumb.
Katy Ewing
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