December 16.25: Coping, but barely

In layers do we live life,

time-swaddling,

Scheherazade’s story veils,

a braided cloud,

a stew,

images in relentless stir,

ever borrowing,

each from the other,

ever building,

on, under, restless.

We cannot see one

except through another…

and another…

Just so does a layer of lights

obscure and jewel

the white evening.