On the new year,
I’m wondering where winter sleeps,
certainly not in my backyard
where the leaves remain sleepy brown,
grasses bid me to wake up soon,
waking up soon.

Sure, winter wakes here
by the calendar – at least
but my eyes lie to me,
and my heart tests the metal
of the season.

Dave

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When I count winter
I count slowly,
one snowflake, two
and stumble to sleep,
in the wind,
icy sidewalk
a fire,
burning and snapping its fingers.

Counting candle flames
is easier,
I count and drift.

5 Jan 09

Winter perfumes the air
the sky is a white swirling mass
waiting snow flakes

 

Albuquerque Winter

Albuquerque Winter

Snow is falling

crisscrossing, circling

flying pieces.
We cheer them

while they fall

and we’re glass contained,

ah, yes, the ingrediants are great-

 

cup of rest

dash of fun

a project,

 

But those out

have far different views

each flake

a frosting preventing

profit.

 

 

Dave

26 Dec 08

  
My house is surrounded
by flour fields.
 
When the men looked up,
they cursed it,
as if shaking their fist
changed its pattern-
 
White to green?
white to gold
 
As if a well placed trope
would mold the clouds
to functional fields.
 
Dave
 
Another cold night,
thirty four degrees, dirty clouds and sky
a dandruf sky, then rainy.
gray is depression,
a foggy sense of connection,
warning morning of the day
that cold will stay,
that sky will weep.
.
Dave