A virtue can be allusive.
Winds that are meager
extol words that proceed
with tenacity and warmth.
Mysterious hands lack
not outward feel.
And emptied out ferrule watered down
spirals of memories.
The simmering are not selfish
yet shelled out in response
the ravages, trails
and heat left before and behind
alongside the rhyme.
A broader lavish of virtue.
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